Moon Dance
by ThirstyBoot
Summary: "Come here, Victor." That voice... Victor can feel its light, airy timbre drawing him near, the way it once did when what now seems an eternity ago. His steps, though hesitant, carry him towards what he's afraid will vanish in an instant if he acknowledges his suspicions. -Modern-ish AU, ten years after the events of Corpse Bride
1. The Perfect Wife

Chapter One

"Victor, darling!" Victoria's soft voice carries up the stairs and into the study. Dinner's ready!"

Victor sighs and sets his pencil aside, rising from his desk chair. He glances down at what he'd been drawing for the past hour.

The butterflies again. Sketched in soft granite, outlined with smooth strokes of ink, and filled in with swirls of deep blue hues. He'd filled pages and pages with them. He's been doing that a lot lately. He just can't seem to stop. He traces the outline of one of them, the large, wispy one in the center, with a long, slender white finger, a hint of a smile creeping onto his ordinarily pensive face.

They reminded him of _her_.

"Victor, please, before it gets cold!"

The smile disappears as reality tugs his arm towards the woman downstairs. _His_ _wife_.

It's not that he has anything against Victoria. She is a lovely young woman, innocent and terribly sheltered. She was incredibly bashful on their wedding night in a way that was endearing to Victor at the time. He had to be very careful and gentle with her, as she was extremely fragile and still is.

Yes, she is what one can call "the perfect wife".

And Victor finds this perfectly boring.

Victoria never wanted to do anything exciting. A trip to the market? She'd just bought groceries. Learn the piano forte? Her fingers grew tired. A walk in the woods? Never going to happen. Victoria never did anything beyond cooking, cleaning, and sewing.

Yes, Victoria is "the perfect wife".

But perfect isn't what Victor wants.


	2. Collision

Chapter Two

Emily's eyelids flutter open. Where is she, exactly?

Her eyes wander around, taking in the scenery. Tall, spindly trees stretch and reach towards the sky. The ground is soft and covered in sparse amounts of grass. A stream rushes by, carving a path through the dirt, flowing into wherever its end will be. Crows fly by overhead, cawing. This was where she was before, when she was still buried in the ground, waiting for love. But how? All she could remember was wishing to explore this world more fully, and then suddenly she was falling through the clouds. Could this be a second chance to live that dream, even as a corpse?

She pushes a stray lock of strawberry blonde hair away from her face, the strands silken and warm between her fingers.

Wait a moment… blonde? Her hair hasn't been blonde since…

No, it can't be.

Her eyes flicker down to her hands. Creamy white, soft skin covers what once was bare, rotting bone. Her dress, no longer ragged and torn, is smooth white lace once again. The same cream colored skin covers her legs and her face, her cheeks full and warm. She reaches up to touch her crown of flowers. Withered and dry no more. She frees a small petal to see it seemingly glow a vibrant powder blue in the moonlight, the white veins drawing intricate patterns within. She allows the gentle breeze to blow it out of her hand and carefully presses her fingertip against her right eyelid. It stays in place. She crawls over to the stream, looking into its reflective surface. Bright, pale blue eyes stare back at her. There is no trace of death anywhere.

She is alive.

"Victor, you've barely touched your plate." Victoria gazes at him across the long dining table. "Is something the matter?"

Victor continues absentmindedly pushing his potatoes around on his plate, the fork scraping the glass occasionally, not really hearing anything. "Mmm, yes dear." he mumbles.

"Victor!"

Her voice is alarmingly close this time. Victor's head jerks up, startled. Victoria is clutching his arm, worry drawn across her face.

Victor blinks at her, still partially floating within his thoughts. "Yes?"

Victoria's eyes are searching. "Where are you?" She tries to appear firm but only succeeds in looking as if she is about to cry. The tears are already forming. "You're so far away all the time!"

Guilt worms its way into Victor's heart. He places his hand over her trembling fingers to attempt to still them. "Victoria, I'm sorry." And he is. This isn't fair to her. He holds her gaze. "Please, don't be upset."

Victoria rips her fingers away from him, true rage contorting her features as tears finally begin to spill down her pallid cheeks. "Don't be upset? How can I not be upset?" She begins to pace, fingers curled into tiny fists. "You're hardly ever home, and when you are you're always shut away in that awful study of yours! I practically never see you!" She whirls on him. "Why?"

Victor doesn't know what to say. He's never seen Victoria angry before. Actually, he's never seen Victoria anything but placidly happy. He doesn't want to hurt her.

"I don't know."

He rises from his seat, unable to stay, unable to think. He doesn't know what to do. "I need to step out for a moment."

Victoria's lip curls, trying to conceal any quivering. "There you go again! Always leaving!"

Emily pushes herself up onto her feet, trying to get used to the weight of new flesh covering bone. She stumbles and nearly falls twice, but she is slowly starting to get the hang of this.

 _Right, left, right, left._

This is silly. Her movements are clunky and robotic. It's not as if she's never walked before. She giggles at the absurdity of it all and begins gain confidence with each steady step. Soon, she picks up the pace, the soft thumps of bare feet padding along the ground music to her ears. The wind plays with her long, silky hair, blowing it behind her ears. The cool air feels wonderful on her skin.

Emily is so lost in the thrill of being alive once again that she doesn't notice the thick, gnarled root jutting out of the ground at first. By the time she does, it's too late. She trips and falls, instinctually sticking her hands out to break her fall.

Expecting to hit the ground, she is surprised when she collides with something lean and sturdy. She straightens up and finds she is gripping the forearms of a man. Her eyes travel up to his face, and she gasps.

"Victor?"


	3. Alive

Chapter 3

Victor stares at the woman in his arms, confused, dark coffee brown gazing into searching pale blue. Something is oddly familiar about her, but he can't quite place it. Straightening up, he takes a step back to get a better look at her.

"Excuse me, have we met?"

The woman's brows draw together in confusion for a moment; then she chuckles. "Oh, silly me, I can't very well expect you to recognize me when I look so different." Her lips, full, pink petals, form a tiny smile. "But you must remember."

She drifts past him, softly humming a hauntingly beautiful melody, a melody that caresses Victor like the soothing embrace of an old friend. He knows this melody so well. He must be dreaming, or old memories have resurfaced and are now bent on torturing him.

"Come here, Victor."

That voice… Victor can feel its light, airy timbre drawing him near, the way it once did when what now seems an eternity ago. His steps, though hesitant, carry him towards what he's afraid will vanish in an instant if he acknowledges his suspicions. Maybe, if he carries on within this delirium for a little while longer, it will be enough to move him through his dreary life.

He stops at her side, and follows her dreamy gaze up towards the moon, shining opalescent white. He'd almost forgotten how beautiful the sky looks at night, having only seen it from his window lately.

"Look at me, Victor." she says. "Look at me, and try to remember."

She faces him, and it's only when she's bathed in the moonlight, giving her pale skin a bluish hue, that he finally sees her.

Hardly daring to believe it, he reaches out and cups her cheek, running the pad of his thumb gently across the creamy flesh. Tears begin to form in his eyes, and he feels as if his very heart is breaking. She feels so real.

"Is it… is it really you?" he asks, so afraid of the answer his words sound choppy.

She laughs again, and it's such a melodious sound Victor is almost sure it's her, but he needs to hear her say it.

"Yes, Victor, it is."

Those four little, yet crucial, words are all he needs to hear. He wraps his arms around Emily and pulls her close, hugging her to his chest, trembling. She is alive and she is warm and she is real and she is here, with him.

— — — — — — — — — — —

Victoria dries her eyes and sets about putting away the leftovers. It's her fault, really. She shouldn't have gone off on him like that. Yet, she can't help it sometimes. Victor always seems ready to get away from her, retreating to his study doing God-knows-what up there and only coming down when she called him. He used to ask her to go out on the town with him, but she had always declined. She was never one to leave the house regularly, preferring to stay indoors most of the time. Now she regrets her rejections, thinking maybe he would be more amiable to her had she accepted.

She misses Emily. This seems odd coming from her, since the corpse bride had once been engaged to her husband and nearly killed him all because he accidentally proposed to her while rehearsing his vows. However, after spending some time with her, Emily was the only person who made her feel as if she was being understood. She was the closest thing Victoria had ever experienced to a best friend. If she were here, maybe she could help.

— — — — — — — — — — —

Victor sits by the lake, gazing up at the stars, Emily's head nestled against his shoulder. A gentle breeze blows through his hair, ruffling the black crop. A few crickets chirp softly. When was the last time he felt such bliss? He does not want to return home.

"So, how is Victoria?"

Victor inwardly winces. This moment was so perfect without a reminder about the way he'd hurt his wife. The way he is still hurting his wife.

"She's… well." Is all Victor can manage without lying completely.

It doesn't matter, because Emily sees right through him. "What's wrong?" she asks. She lifts her head from his shoulder, shifting to look at him.

Victor stares into his lap, trying to ignore her question. He doesn't want to tell her how unhappy he's been. How unhappy they both have been.

Emily sighs. "I've missed you Victor, but I do wish you'd tell me what's going on." She pauses, considering something. "If you won't tell me, I'll ask Victoria."

Victor knows hiding it from her is a feeble attempt, but he doesn't feel ready to admit anything yet. He changes the subject.

"Have you got anywhere to stay?"

Emily gives him a look that tells him this conversation is far from over, but she'll drop it for now. She shakes her head. "No. I haven't been here very long."

Victor rises, pulling Emily up with him. "Stay with us, then." he says, excitement forming in his eyes.

Emily looks skeptical. "Are you sure that'll be alright?"

"Of course!" he says earnestly.

Emily's face softens. "Well, alright then."

— — — — — — — — — — —

A ghostly hand pushes up through the ground, reflexively pulling back at the chill of the night air. A second hand follows, pulling up the rest of the body. Dirt rolls off silk clad shoulders back into the hole of its origin.

Eyes follow the retreating figures, and a sinister smirk spreads across marred features. A single thought forms.

 _Soon._

— — — — — — — — — —

 **I know, I know. The story is moving pretty slow so far. I promise it'll pick up momentum soon! :3**


	4. Girl Talk

**AN: How many of you think Victor is really annoying right now? Don't worry, he'll mature eventually. He's always struck me as a kind of childish, whiny, skittish character, so I felt I needed to show the shift instead of just throwing it out there. Character development!**

Chapter 4

The front door locks click open, announcing Victor's return. Victoria bolts upright from the couch she's dozed off on, waiting for Victor to come home. She glances up at the clock.

11:00!

As the door opens Victoria rises, ready to let him have it.

"Victor, where on earth? — "

And it's there she stops when she sees familiar, soulful eyes. Her colors may have changed, but Victoria would recognize that sweet face anywhere. She pushes past her husband and envelopes Emily in a tight embrace.

Emily chuckles and strokes her hair gently. "My, between you and Victor I'm going to need a new dress."

Victoria lifts her head. "What?" She glances down and sees she's been crying again, her tears soaking through Emily's dress. "Oh, sorry." Her eyes meet Emily's, and she smiles. "It's just so wonderful to see you again! How — ?"

"I don't know. I'm not sure if it's permanent or only for a little while."

"Well, let's make the most of the time we have with you." Victor cuts in.

Victoria shoots him a glare that promises she's still angry with him. This does not go unnoticed by Emily, but she pretends it does for the sake of the moment. She yawns.

"I'm a bit tired; do you mind if I sleep on your couch?"

Victoria loops her arm through Emily's before she can even begin to sit down. "No, you sleep upstairs with me. Victor," She fixes him with a cold stare. "Can take the couch, since he's such a gentleman."

Victor blinks, then registers his wife's words. "Oh, right. Of course."

— — — — — — — — —

Emily settles beneath soft, velvet sheets, wearing one of Victoria's cotton night dresses. It's a little short on her, but she doesn't mind. She relishes in the feel of the sheets brushing against her warm skin, the way the puffy pillow cradles her head. She'd nearly forgotten how wonderful fresh linens and fluffed pillows felt.

She turns her head toward the woman lying wide awake beside her, her hair still pinned back in that severe bun. It must be giving her a terrible headache.

"Victoria?"

"Mmmm?"

"Let me remove the pins from your hair."

Victoria sits up and allows Emily to start pulling the pins out, then the twist. Dark brown hair spills down her back, and Emily sees some tension leave the younger woman.

"Thank you."

Emily smiles. "You're welcome." She settles back down and props herself up with an elbow. "So, what's with you and Victor lately? You don't seem… happy."

Victoria sighs. It's a despairing sound, and Emily's heart aches at hearing it. Victoria turns to face her.

"He just seems so far away, all the time. Sometimes…" She's fighting tears now. "Sometimes I feel like he just wants to be with you. Like he's more alive when he's with you."

Emily feels a guilty surge of joy, but she pushes down her feelings for Victor at the moment. He is married to Victoria, and if he's not happy with her Emily needs to help the relationship, not tear it apart. Besides, Victoria is her friend, and Emily would never want to hurt her that way.

"Well," Emily chooses her words carefully. "I can't speak for Victor, but I will say that I will do anything I can to help your marriage. I want both of you to be happy."

Victoria's eyes brighten. "Oh, thank you so much!"

— — — — — — —

Lord Barkis lies in wait, looking for someone to pass by, anyone, with a hooded cloak. He can't very well traipse through town with his scarred, blue face without being attacked or photographed. He needs to lay low for now until he can enact his perfect plan for revenge against those wretched Van Dorts.

Finally, the perfect victim passes by: a little old woman, hunched over and tottering by. Barkis lunges forward, wrapping an arm around her neck.

 _Snap!_

The woman didn't even have a chance to make a sound. Barkis deposits the body in a rubbish bin nearby and dons the cloak. It's a frilly old thing, but Barkis doesn't have time to be picky. Now, he needs to find a place to stay.

— — — — — — —

 **Ooh, Barkis is on the move!**


	5. New Arrival

Chapter 5

Emily tugs Victoria along excitedly. She hasn't done this in years, but she remembers how exciting and fun it was when she was alive once before.

"Where are we going, Emily?" Victoria squints, trying to see through her blindfold, but can only see blurry shapes.

"Just a little farther, I promise!"

Emily can barely contain herself. They've since upgraded Glaschester the last time she's been, which includes a multitude of shopping centers. No longer is it a dismal town with little to do; now it is a place brimming with life. She can't believe Victor and Victoria haven't even tried to explore this place before!

She stops in front of a particularly lovely looking shop and reaches around to remove Victoria's blindfold.

"I'm going to take off your blindfold now."

When the cover is taken off her eyes, Victoria releases a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding to find herself standing in front of…

A shopping mall.

"Oh no, absolutely not!" Victoria turns on her heel to walk away. There is no way she is going into one of those dreadful places.

Emily catches her arm before she can leave. "Oh, why not?" she asks. "It'll be fun! Besides, you can't expect me to walk around in this all day." she says, gesturing toward her wedding dress.

Victoria winces as memories flood back to her of endless hours of fitting and occasionally being stuck with a needle, her mother complaining that none of the dresses flattered her non-existent figure. "I'd rather not be poked and prodded, thank you very much."

Emily snickers. "When was the last time you've been to one of these places? This is too modern for silly things like that." When she sees that Victoria doesn't seem like she's going to budge, she softens her expression. "At least come inside with me."

Victoria gnaws at her lower lip, unsure.

"Well, all right then. But I'm not getting fitted for anything!"

— — — — — — —

"Victoria, come out."

"It shows my ankles! And a bit of my knees!"

Emily snorts. After purchasing a casual outfit for herself and something comfortable to sleep in, she had browsed around the shops with Victoria, filling bags with jeans, light blouses, and two pair of flats to modernize her style. This latest outfit in particular, however, is the first to show any "considerable amount of skin", and Emily had insisted that Victoria try it on when she'd caught the woman admiring it.

"Oh, come off it. I want to see you!"

"Mmmph." Victoria huffs, and opens the door.

She looks absolutely stunning. It's a mint green, knee length dress tied with a cream sash, hugging curves that were once hidden beneath layers of stuffy fabric. Her dark hair and eyes are a welcome, lovely contrast to her pale skin and the lightly colored dress.

Victor would have to be mad to ignore her now.

Victoria crosses her arms, clearly nervous. "Well?" she asks.

"Beautiful." Emily simply says. She leads Victoria over to a mirror. "Have a look."

Victoria forces herself to look, afraid of what she'll see.

"Oh…" She reaches up to cup her face. The image in the mirror does the same. "That's really me?"

"Of course it is, silly. Do you like it?"

"Very much."

— — — — — — —

A few hours later Emily and Victoria are walking out of Glaschester. Victoria feels more relaxed than she has in weeks. She wishes she could do this more often. Emily had convinced her to loosen her hair from the severe bun she normally had, and she felt considerably better without the tightness around her head.

As Victoria pulls out her phone to tell Victor they've finished, Emily sees someone strikingly familiar out of the corner of her eye.

Not really knowing where she's going, she follows him, ignoring Victoria when she asks where they're going.

"Excuse me?" she says when she finally reaches him.

The man turns around. It's the Bone Daddy himself: Bonejangles.

His hair is a fiery ginger red, bright green eyes twinkling in amusement lit up from his signature quirky smile. Recognition flashes through them, and his grin stretched a little more.

"Emily!" he says, throwing his arms around her. "You made it too?"

Confusion twists her features. "Made it?"

"Yeah!" He tips his bowler hat towards Victoria, who is standing behind Emily, frozen with shock. She doesn't know how much more of this her poor heart can take. "Hey, Victoria. Anyways, lots of us have been crossing over. We've been finding some random rifts Downstairs, ya know? And a few of us decided to try and pass through, and then this happened!" He gives a little spin, showing off his human body. "Pretty cool, ya dig?"

Emily smiles, but gears are turning in her head.

 _If Bonejangles is here, who else could have come up here? Could he have accidentally brought…?_

 _No, don't be silly. No sane person would let HIM through._

"Bonejangles, how many of you came through?" Victoria asks, finally having the courage to say something. _Too many walking corpses; too many flashes back to that horrible wedding_.

Bonejangles shrugs. "Dunno, most of 'em were too scared to try. I think, maybe it was me, and a couple others. None too many, I don't think."

"Where are you staying?" Emily asks.

"I've been bumming around. Just busking for my living, like I did before. Think I'd like to own a pub up here someday, ya know? It's nice up here. I've missed this life."

Victoria's phone goes off, interrupting the conversation. She'd accidentally hung up on Victor while chasing after Bonejangles with Emily.

"Yes, Victor, hello." Victoria pulls a face and puts her hand over the phone. "He thought something had happened to us." She removes her hand and continues talking to him. "Yes, we're finished; we'll meet you at Rosings."

Emily giggles, easily able to hear Victor's frantic voice through the phone's little speaker. Bonejangles smirks.

"Still a frantic little prat, I hear." he says, chuckling. Emily tsks at him, causing him to hold up his hands in surrender. "Oi, I mean that in the most _loving_ way, I promise. Oi, Victoria, put me on the phone." he says, reaching for Victoria's cell.

"Oh, I'm not sure that's such a good —"

But Bonejangles already has the phone in his hand. "Oi, Victor! Stop your worrying, the ladies are fine." Pause, more high pitched stuttering from Victor's end, causing Emily to snicker while Victoria looks fairly concerned. Bonejangles bursts out laughing at something Victor says. "It's Bonejangles, mate! Who else?" High pitched stuttering increases. Bonejangles laughs harder. "It's the 21st century, Victor… I dunno, science? Whatever it is, it's groovy!" Bonejangles holds the phone away from his ear, just in time for Victor to yell that _no, the dead walking the earth is NOT groovy, it's strange and we've already had to handle this business once, thank you very much!_ "Oi, simmer. Simmer. We'll see you soon, okay? Okay?"

Bonejangles hangs up the phone and hands it back to Victoria. "Well, I think I might have given your husband a heart attack, but he should be fine."

Victoria wordlessly takes her phone back, her expression blank, while Emily attempts to collect herself.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go meet him before he passes out in the street!"

— — — — — — —

Barkis scowls. So, Bonejangles managed to get to the surface too. How annoying. Ah, well. He supposes he'll just have to kill him too, and lock the lot of them up downstairs where they belong. And make them _stay_ there. Somehow. He's waited this long. He can wait a little longer. At least he doesn't have to wear that dreadful cloak anymore. A wig, makeup and a pair of sunglasses he'd stolen had seen to that. He looks ridiculous, but all will be worth it.

— — — — — —

 **Like Bonejangles in this chapter? He was a ton of fun to write in. I'll update as often as I can, but life's been keeping me pretty busy. I'm hoping to finish this before I start school next month, but we'll see what happens. :3**


	6. Catching Up

**A/N: Feel free to skip to the story if you want, as this will be a long one.**

 **Yes, yes, I know, it's been an eternity. This story doesn't really have a schedule, it's more of, if the inspiration's there, I'm writing a new chapter. I will finish this story, don't worry, but it's probably going to be a long one.**

 **Okay, now that business me is out of the way, to answer a comment about the "inaccuracies" and why this isn't set in Victorian times.**

 **This is a modern AU, which means that the timeline is set in the twenty-first century, and all the events before Moon Dance took place during that time period as well. This means that my version is NOT set in Victorian times, but in modern day. For convenience, let's say Emily died about a decade before Corpse Bride began, and Bonejangles about three-four decades, give or take a few. I hope that clears up any confusion, and if it doesn't, feel free to PM me. :3**

 **That said, thank you all so much for all your lovely reviews! They really make my day, and encourage me to keep writing further. Now, on to the story.**

Chapter 6

Victor paces back and forth in front of Rosings, waiting. This has got to be some sort of joke, some twisted ugly joke.

A joke that could maybe contain some truth.

Bah!

Customers bustling in and out of the café gave him strange looks as they passed; one even offered to buy him a drink to settle his nerves, which he politely refused. He must look like a madman. He should sit down. He should sit down now.

His feet continued to drag him back and forth anyway.

"Victor!"

Victor stops and nearly falls over at the sound of Emily's voice. Thank God! He sees Victoria beside her, and his heart rate slows down, relieved that they're both alright. Then he sees that silly bowler hat resting on a ginger head. Even with skin over his bones, he's still recognizable to Victor.

Dear God, it is true.

Victor can't do much but sputter as Bonejangles makes his way towards him. Finally, he offers his hand for the busker to shake, seeing as he can't seem to do anything else.

Bonejangles chortles at his sudden speech impediment. "It's guh-guh-guh greeeeat to see you too, Victor." He looks down at his extended hand. "Oi, what's that for? We've been through too much for just a 'andshake. Bring it 'ere."

He pulls Victor into a hug that nearly crushes the life out of him. There's irony in that somewhere.

Questions spill from Victor like a river. "How? What? When?"

Bonejangles groans. "Don't tell me I got to explain this again." He turns to the ladies, who are having trouble keeping straight faces as they watch the exchange. "Can't one of you tell him over a cuppa?"

Emily smiles. "I'll do it. Come on, let's go in. I'm curious to see if Rosings is any better than the place that used to be here."

— — — — — —

"So, you just walked right up?" Victor asks.

"Yup." Bonejangles takes a big swig of coffee and grins. "Woah! This stuff's swingin'! Been too long since I had one of these."

"And it's just you, right?"

"A few others too, but no one you would know."

Emily returns with several packets of sugar. "Are you sure you need this much, Victoria?"

Victoria giggles. "They're not for me."

Emily looks to Victor. "Really?"

Victor snatches the packets from her, face reddening. "I like my coffee with a little flavor, all right?"

Emily rolls her eyes. "I'm sure." She seats herself on his other side and swipes a packet from his pile.

A barista drops a flyer on their table, which Bonejangles immediately grabs. His face lights up.

"Where do I sign up for this?" he asks, waving it around.

Victor empties the final packet. "Open mic night?"

"Yeah, it's tonight. Could be my chance to finally get someone to notice me, start a band. The blokes under the bridge are great and all, but they can't play anything to save their sorry lives."

Victoria glances over him. "I think that's the list over there." she says, gesturing to a long sheet of paper hanging on the bulletin board.

"Smashing!" Bonejangles downs the last of his coffee and rises. "Say, Emily, why don't you do it with me? When's the last time you sang for a real audience, ay?"

Emily's eyes light up. "Far too long, to be sure!"

"Hold on you two." Victoria says. "Don't you think you shouldn't be calling attention to yourselves, seeing as you've already had your obituaries published, no doubt?"

Bonejangles snorts. "Who's gonna remember people who croaked ages ago? Come on, we're gonna have a little fun while we're still here." He turns to Emily, grin prominent. "I'll sign us up. We'll do a duet, like old times!"

And before anyone can say anything else, Bonejangles is heading towards the board, asking the barista for a pen on the way over.

Victor raises an eyebrow. "Old times?"

"Oh, right." Emily says. "He and I used to perform together all the time when I first came Downstairs, but then you came along, and things got… complicated." Emily bit her lip. "Anyway, when you set me free, I went up, higher than Upstairs, I think it's called the Attic, and then… well, you know the rest of that story."

Bonejangles returns, beaming. "Alright, we're on tonight at seven. I picked one of our old favorites, Emily." He circles the table embracing them all. "I'm going back to the bridge to pick up my sax. It was groovy seeing you lot again!"

— — — — — —

Collin needs a break. Not just any break, the biggest break of his life, the story that would show everyone that he has what it takes. He's sick of being at the bottom of his department, a pressman, printing everyone else's success while only being able to dream of his own.

So naturally, when he sees the name of an old heiress on the sheet for Rosing's open mic night after going in for a quick cup, he jumps at the chance of a lifetime.

 _Emily Hunter, you're my way out._

— — — — — —

 **A/N: Oooh, look, a new character! OC of course. I do believe that now the stage is set, we can really start moving a little faster. Things are happening!**


	7. Allies?

Chapter 7

Rosings has a sort of romantic look when the sun goes down. Dimly lit, with strings of pink rose lights hanging throughout the little cafe, soft, slow jazz playing in the background; it's beautiful. A stark contrast to the loud, bustling Ball and Socket from Downstairs. A wooden platform serves as the stage, a mic downstage center and a little baby grand piano upstage left. Bonejangles would accompany Emily on the piano first, then close the night with a big sax solo.

Despite years of experience onstage, Emily feels nervous as she watches the other acts. Not because she's intimidated or shy, no, far from it. The thrill of performing again sends a thrill throughout her body.

And yet…

Bonejangles didn't realize what he'd done when he'd chosen their song. It's an original, something Emily had started to write while residing Downstairs, waiting for her love to come find her. She'd stopped after a while, but when Victor came she finally finished it, and the song became less about finding an ambiguous true love and more about _him_. She hadn't told Bonejangles when he'd found it, but he couldn't have possibly known anyway. She can't very well tell him now. She just hopes Victor doesn't figure it out.

"Up next, Emily Hunter and the Bone Daddy!"

Emily can't hold back a snicker, and her nerves dissolve a little. Of all the stage names, he goes with that. She rises, smoothing out her dress, a pale blue number that reaches her knees, and steps onstage. Bonejangles gives her hand a reassuring squeeze before going to sit behind the piano.

"Hello, all." she says, gracing everyone with a warm smile. She looks slightly above the crowd, because she knows if she looks down she'll find Victor's face. "I'll be singing _Meant to Be_."

Bonejangles begins playing the intro. Emily takes a deep breath, then begins to sing:

 _Love is nothing more than just a faraway dream_

 _So I once believed as I lay beneath a tree_

 _But dreams are beautiful to see_

 _When you're lonely and longing_

 _For someone to take you away into his arms_

 _Hand outstretched, I never guessed_

 _A ring would fall to me_

 _A perfect fit, could this be it_

 _My love for eternity_

 _Together we danced beneath a full moon_

 _I knew his love was true_

 _Gazing into his eyes_

 _Melting hopelessly, turning in his arms_

 _After all this time_

 _This must be meant to be_

 _This must be meant to be_

 _We're simply meant to be_

Finally tearing her eyes away from the back wall she'd been staring at, her eyes find the crowd applauding with bright, smiling faces. But her eyes betray her and find the one face she had been trying to avoid during the song:

Victor's lips are parted in awe, a smile tugging at the corners while his eyes are slightly tearing up. Emily hopes it may be because of the candle centerpieces, but she can't help but think he must know, or at least suspect something. She bows, thanks the audience, and exits the stage to go sit down, purposefully beside Victoria this time. As she listens to the praise from the couple, she thinks, _well, at least they enjoyed it._

Bonejangles stays to perform his set to close the night, moving from the piano to his sax sitting beside him.

"This one's an old fav of mine." he says with a big grin, taking center stage. "It's called _Remains of the Day_."

The brassy belts of the saxophone fill the room, accompanied by Bonejangles's vigorous stomping for lack of a drumbeat, and the audience soon gets up and starts dancing. Victor, having finally picked up some gentlemanlike grace, asks Victoria to dance.

"Oh, you know I don't dance to this kind of thing!" Victoria protests.

Victor shrugs. "It could be fun. It looks fairly simple."

"This seems more like Emily's cup of tea." Victoria says. "Go, on dance with her!" she says at his hesitation. "We're already married, Victor. It's alright."

Victor turns to her. "Would you like to?"

Emily hesitates for a second. _I'd better do this. I don't want Victoria suspecting anything too._ She plasters an eager smile on her face and springs from her seat. "I thought you'd never ask."

— — — — — —

Collin prints out yet another page to add to his files. He can't risk using the office printer, and if that means running his personal stores dry, so be it.

Emily Hunter is a stunner. Her photos are hardly anything compared to the real thing, but then again cameras were rubbish back then. There is no denying it. The evidence lines up, and according to those dates, Hunter has to be at least twenty-nine, not much of a story in regards to the age department, but that's not what he's focused on. He shuffles through the files he's spent hours poring over to have another look.

Some morbid soul called Margaret Finch had found Emily's body after the murder had taken place, but rather than report the death immediately to her parents, Finch instead took some photos from several different angles and posted them online to an ancient website called "Digg" along with some decent information. A clear stab wound beneath the right breast could be seen in one picture, a distinctive mark that couldn't fade away completely even if she had somehow survived the attack.

Finch had followed up with another article when the body disappeared the following day. They'd never found it, but her parents, having already disowned her for essentially scandalizing the family, didn't care much to do any real searching.

These articles have been goldmines so far. He scrolls through more related articles until he finds one on someone called Victor Van Dort, son of some unimportant fish merchants that might have had status at some point. That's not what grabs his attention. Despite being called a hoax several times in the comments, Collin isn't about to ignore this one.

After reading through pointless details about the venue choice, —a clear factor that obviously means this article was written by some silly blogger woman— he finally discovers the point. Van Dort was planning to wed Hunter, but plans went askew when his first fiancée arrived unceremoniously —"pun completely intended", ugh!— and disrupted the entire event. The woman had managed to capture a photo of Van Dort and Hunter. Though in black and white, the changes can clearly be seen from Hunter's living body and the deteriorating carcass she was in the picture, proof that she had been dead. A current picture of her now would seal the deal, and with all three, no one would be able to dispute him.

He glances at his clock. 8:30. Open mic is still going on. He may have the chance to get that photo tonight if he hurries.

The door slams shut as he rushes out. Rosings isn't that far.

— — — — —

Barkis has finally managed to make himself look presentable and unrecognizable in such a way that wouldn't warrant stares from everyone he passes. A beard took care of his large chin, hair dye turned his grey hair brown, better foundation covered the blue skin, concealer eliminated the scars and contacts concealed the yellow eyes. He now had on a long sleeved black shirt and pants as well as a pair of dress shoes. He looks normal now, and glad of it.

But what he would give for a beer!

Unfortunately, his victims had chosen a crowded, public place that also happens to be alcohol free. Coffee is a poor substitute, and his patience is wearing thin. He constantly has to remind himself to wait for the perfect moment. He only has one chance at this. One fatal shot, stab, or poisoning would call the attention of the Omniscience and send him straight back Downstairs.

Oh, he's going to strangle Bonejangles with that saxophone.

A flash and a low curse catches his attention. He turns to find a young man, probably in his twenties, with curly black hair and dark brown eyes full of frustration, a camera in his hands. He follows where the camera is aimed and finds it on Emily. What business could this boy have with her? He decides to investigate. Anyone who could possibly get in his way must be removed.

As he gets closer, he can see why the boy is frustrated. His hands are shaking, which is probably resulting in blurry pictures on his end. Idiot.

"What are you trying to do?" Barkis asks.

The boy narrows his eyes at him. "Go find your own story, you prat!" He immediately claps his hand over his mouth, as if he hadn't meant to say that. "Just go away." he grumbles.

Barkis snorts. If this boy has a tongue this loose, this shouldn't be too difficult. "I'm not even a reporter. That woman you're trying to photograph, I've got a bone to pick with her. So don't get in my way."

That got his attention. The boy turns his attention back to Barkis. "You know her?"

Barkis smirks. This is too easy.

He just might have found a new tool.


	8. A Grave Mistake

Chapter 8

Victor maneuvers the dance to bring himself and Emily to a secluded corner of the café. He needs to speak with her, alone, without any distractions. Those words, that melody, everything about the song screams her feelings for him. The fluttering melody rings clear in his ears, pronounced by her mournfully sweet voice. He needs to tell her how he feels now, now while he still has the chance.

Emily stares at him, confused. "Why are we by the loo?"

Victor turns. Oh. Not the best place to confess, but he can't back out now. "Never mind that." He takes her hands. "I've got to know: did you mean what you said?"

"What?"

"About us, being meant to be." Emily doesn't answer, silently holding his desperate gaze. He keeps going anyway. "Because I think we are. I don't think that this is an accident, you coming back into my life. I haven't been able to stop thinking of you ever since you left. My room is covered with drawings of your butterflies, hoping that maybe that would bring you back to me. And now it has. I never stopped loving you, and you must feel the same, at least a little."

Emily frowns. "And what about Victoria?"

Victor blinks. "What about her?"

"She's your wife. I'm not going to steal away someone else's happiness."

Victor laughs. "Then I'll leave her! If that's all, I'll do it!"

"Oh, just like the way you left me when I brought you back Upstairs?" Emily scowls. "That's rich, coming from you." She wrenches her hands away. "I do care for you, Victor, but I really can't bear to be with you right now. You're acting like a child."

"Emily, please—!"

Emily simply walks away to find another dance partner.

Victor stares after her in utter disbelief. This was not how this was supposed to go.

x

Collin nearly freezes when Emily approaches him, but a sharp glare from Barkis quickly thaws him. The man was intimidating but proving a fantastic mentor. Maybe he'll throw in a little blurb about him when he writes his monetizing article. For now, he must focus on getting said article out of the woman in front of him.

"Hello," she says, her voice light and breathy. "Fancy a dance?"

"Alright."

Thank God the music had slowed down considerably. That stomping sax man was ridiculous. This is a tempo he can dance to without flailing his arms about. He finds a rhythm before mentally preparing a way to go about this. She hadn't looked thrilled with Van Dort when she left him standing by the lavatories. Hmm. Time to turn on the old charm.

"Sorry, I don't think we've met. I wouldn't forget a pretty face like yours." Rough start, but it'll do.

Emily flushes, then smiles. "I'm Emily."

"Collin." He shuffles his feet, moving her away from his table. "You looked like you were having a row over there."

Emily pouts. "Well, he was being unfair."

The music suddenly slows down; Collin glances over to find Barkis leaving the stage. Good man.

He pulls her close and touches his forehead to hers, pulling a classic line he hadn't used in a while. "It sounds like he doesn't respect you much."

Emily melts a little. "No, he's just being really selfish right now."

"You seem like such a lovely woman; if you were mine I'd never be that way. I'd always give into you." More flattery. She's weakening. Barkis is right, music does help speed things along. "Don't you believe in love at first sight?"

Emily's eyes darken. "No. I did, once, but I was wrong."

Damn, he's lost her. Reel it back in, Collin. "You can't be wrong twice."

He leans in closer but stops inches from where he needs to be. When he and Barkis had cooked this up, the endgame was to get her to his home, where he could control her. However, he knows from experience that if he wants to get her there, she has to close the gap, not him. To say he wasn't enjoying himself would be lying. He figures he might as well get a little something extra before he exposes Hunter to the public eye. After that she'd probably be taken away to be experimented on, and then he'd be done with her. She's an attractive woman. What red-blooded male wouldn't take advantage of the situation? Barkis certainly agrees.

He shifts his camera to his side. "Emily," he whispers. "Don't be afraid."

x

Oh. My. Goodness.

All Emily had wanted was to get away from Victor, only to stumble into the arms of some smooth talker who smelled strongly of some sweet cologne only after one thing. On one hand, she could give in and really make Victor sorry. On the other, she could act her age and push him away before she got herself tangled up in another mess.

Revenge, or mess?

Well, if Victor can act childish, so can she.

"Emily, what are you doing?"

Speaking of Victor.

Emily turns to glare at him. "I don't really see how that's your business." Victor opens his mouth, then seems to think of better of it and shuts it again. Emily goes on. "And besides, what is it to you? You're married."

"Look, I know I rushed into things with you, but—"

"No, you can't rush into things, Victor, because there is no 'thing' to rush into between us." The words keep spilling. She's unable to stop, because as much as she loves him she can't let him do this to Victoria. "Why don't you go back to your _wife_ before you do something stupid?"

"Emily—"

"Go!"

Victor turns, embarrassed, and leaves. Collin watches him for a moment, then focuses back on the fuming woman in front of him. This is perfect. They're driving each other apart. Time to bring her home, snag his tip, if you will.

He flashes her a cheeky grin. "Sounds like we should get out of here."

x

Emily rolls over, vision still a little bleary. She doesn't recognize this room at all. Beige walls bare except for a few blurry pictures, a tiny window, a desk with a hulking computer resting on top, a tiny wooden dresser, and a scruffy grey carpet. The room appears as if it belongs to a ghost, hardly any sign of life whatsoever, or at least someone who hardly spends any time in here. She can't blame them. It just looks dreary and sad.

She sits up, the itchy burnt orange blanket slipping down, exposing her to the chilly air. She isn't wearing anything at all, and the only sign that she isn't alone is the faint impression on the other side of the bed. She shivers. Everything hurts, she knows there's some dried blood down _there_ , and all she wants is to get dressed and leave. What on Earth was she thinking? More importantly, for now, where are her clothes?

She rubs at her eyes. That's a little better. She finds her dress torn in half on top of the dresser, her bra rumpled and tossed off into a corner, her panties shredded beside them, and her shoes and purse nowhere in sight. Wonderful. She puts on what she can, which really is the bra, before searching for some other clothes. Collin owes her, really, since he destroyed what she came in. How could she be so stupid? She needs to get back to Victor, back to some form of sanity, to figure out what to do.

 _Oh God, Victor_.

She opens the top dresser drawer and takes out a pair of grey boxers. They're quite big, but they'll stay once she finds some pants and a belt. She locates these in the second drawer, a pair of faded jeans and a tattered brown belt, as well as a massive cable knit brown sweater that smelled of the same cologne Collin had been wearing last night. Ugh. Next drawer.

"Leave it on, it looks nice on you."

Emily tenses and looks up to find Collin standing in the doorway in nothing but a pair of dark green boxers, grinning at her as he studies her form. She glares at him.

"Well, I didn't have many other options."

Collin chuckles. "Ooh, yeah, sorry about that. We did get a little carried away last night, but in my defense you didn't tell me you were a virgin."

Emily buries her face in her hands, unable to look at him. So much for saving herself for marriage. "Just tell me where the rest of my things are, please."

"Why?"

Emily looks up at him. "I'm not staying, Collin. This was a terrible mistake." She shuts the drawers and grabs her dress and panties. "I have to get back to Victor. I'll get your clothes back to you as soon as I can."

"You live with him?"

She pushes past him. "Yes, him and his wife, but it's only temporary." She moves to go downstairs to try and find her purse and shoes, but Collin grabs her wrist, stopping her.

"Why don't you just live with me?"

"Collin, I can't, please just let me -"

"I suggest you cooperate, if you want your stay to be comfortable."

That voice.

Emily's blood runs cold. She never thought she'd have to hear it ever again.

She slowly turns back around to find Barkis standing at the foot of the stairs, almost unrecognizable. But that callous sneer is unmistakably his, and she can clearly see the cold black eyes locked on her from behind the contacts he's wearing. Her hands reflexively ball into fists, muscles tightening. She feels like a cornered animal, no way of escaping. How did he, of all people, manage to get Upstairs? This must be some cruel joke from Whoever runs the Attic. Barkis ought to be down in the Basement by now after all that he's done.

Collin groans. "I told you I'd call you if I needed you."

"You were taking far too long." Barkis growls. "We may be working together, but I have more experience than you do. It would behoove you to listen to me, first and foremost." He turns his attention back to Emily. "Don't bother looking for anything. I've taken the liberty of concealing anything you might use to escape." He pushes past them to retrieve something from Collin's desk. "This will either be fairly easy or remarkably difficult. Make your choice."

Emily scowls. "And what, exactly, are you hoping to accomplish?"

Barkis smirks, eyes gleaming with sin.

"Revenge, my dear."


	9. According to Plan

Chapter 9

Victor calls for what has to be the twentieth time that day. After receiving nothing but a standard voicemail from Emily last night, he's been trying again and again ever since he woke up this morning.

"You've reached 020-79 —"

Victor hangs up yet again, silencing the automated voice. His grip on the useless little device tightens, and he makes to hurl it across the room.

Tiny fingers curl around his wrist, stopping him. Victoria gazes up at him, concern written in her dark eyes.

"Victor, stop. She clearly doesn't want to speak to you."

Victor sighs and shoves his phone back into his pocket. "I didn't like the look of the man she was with. She could be in trouble."

"Is it possible that you could be jealous?"

"What? No, I —" Victor sputters. "I don't, you don't under —"

"You're a terrible liar." Victoria smiles, but it's laced with sadness. "I had a feeling this would happen."

"Victoria-"

"Let me finish." She takes a deep breath. "Even after we were married, I knew your mind was always somewhere else. I'd go up to your study to see you, only to find you gazing out the window or humming that melody you're so fond of. And of course, there were the butterflies. Yes, Victor, I saw them." she says, silencing him with her hand. "I'm not thick. You were pining after her even after you let her go. I stopped trying to kiss you, to pretend your heart wasn't flying away, fluttering after hers, after seeing those drawings." She bites her lip. "And now that she's here again, I know you are lost to me forever. I see the way she looks at you, and you her. You don't have to pretend anymore. I love you, Victor, but you are not mine."

Emily's voice echoes within those final words, piercing him. Victor takes her hands in his own. "Victoria, I am so sorry. I tried, I really did-"

"I know. I'm not upset with you. Not like before."

Victor pulls her into his arms, comforting her. He rests his chin on top of her hair. "What do we do now?" he murmurs.

"I don't know."

 _Ding dong!_

Victoria breaks away to go answer the door.

Bonejangles stands in the doorway, hair ruffled as usual. "Hallo, Victoria!" he says, grinning at her. "Where's the rest of you lot?" He peers around Victoria and spots Victor. "Ha, there you are! Get Em down here, I've got somethin' to tell all of you!"

"Emily isn't here." Victoria says.

Bonejangles's jaw drops. "What? Don't tell me she went off with that camera bloke!" Victor nods. Bonejangles groans. "Oi, well that's just brilliant, isn't it? Come on now, what did you say to her?"

Victor breaks eye contact to stare down at his feet. "Nothing, okay?"

Bonejangles rolls his eyes. "Oh, I see. Too complicated, right? Fine." His eyes say he'll demand an explanation later, then he continues. "Well, I guess I'll tell you then, and you can tell her later when she comes back."

Victoria moves to let him in, and Bonejangles seats himself on the sofa in the living room. "Anyway, some big company people were at the open mic at Rosings. Apparently that's where they like to find 'new talent'. They really liked Emily last night, so naturally they want to make a deal with her if she can write a few more songs like that by next week, enough to fill a decent-sized album. It'll be a dream come true!" Bonejangles stops. "Oi, I thought you'd be happier about this. What's got your knickers into a twist?"

"Bonejangles, you don't understand." Victoria says gently. "Emily is gone. We don't know where she is."

"Don't snap a rib over it. She's probably gone to cool off. From what I saw, you upset her an awful lot. Apparently enough to drive her away."

Victor glares at him. "I didn't mean to!" he snaps. Seeing the musician's wounded expression, he softens. "I'm sorry." He approaches him. "Please, Bonejangles. You know her better than both of us. Help me find her."

x

Emily paces the length of her prison. After refusing to sleep with Collin again, she had been transferred to a second room that was completely empty, the same dull walls and scruffy carpet but completely unfurnished. The door is locked and the window barred with wood, but even if she wanted to climb out it would have been a long drop. There wasn't even a blanket to wrap herself up in. She was forced to draw into that sickening sweater for warmth from time to time.

Her captors hadn't come to see her since this morning. She could hear them arguing but couldn't make out any words. Escape seems impossible at the moment. She knows at least one of them will have to come in to feed her if they want to keep her alive, but she doesn't have a weapon to attack with. The window is barred and she has nothing to open it.

It's all hopeless.

The door opens. Emily glances up to find Collin, now dressed in a patterned shirt and jeans, carrying in his massive computer, dragging a big black cord behind him. He smiles, but Emily doesn't return it. How he can even act as if this is all perfectly normal is beyond her.

He sets the hulking mass of technology down beside the socket and jams the prongs into it. Seeing her puzzled expression, he explains, "I'm going to interview you."

"Me? For what?"

"The City Shuttle." Collin presses a button that causes the machine to whir and sputter to life. "You are going to carry me all the way to the top of my career."

Emily can't help but laugh at that ridiculous notion. "And how am I going to manage that? No one really knows who I am."

Collin presses a few keys and clicks on something, then turns the computer to face her. "With these."

It's a series of photos.

The first shows Emily seated for a portrait. She remembers that day quite well, taken when she was only seventeen and her parents, stuck in their conventional ways, were busying themselves with making her a match. They had hired a photographer and a stylist to prepare some presentable photos the Hunters could post online. Despite how much it annoyed her, Emily couldn't deny that the professionals had done their job well. Long, strawberry blonde tresses were fluffed and curled, framing pale, glowing skin. The flowing lavender dress hugged her every curve. She remembered having to suck her stomach in to get the dress as tight as her mother wanted it. Pale blue eyes gazed into the camera, focused on nothing but holding perfectly still so she could go dancing later. Rose colored lips are curved into a playful smile, innocent, carefree. Father had been trying to make her laugh to make up for all the fussing her mother put her through. The reverie wounded her. She wonders where her parents are now.

The second photo isn't so cheerful. This one shows her lying dead in the grass of the forest. She's sprawled out from when Barkis had thrown her to the ground after stabbing her and stealing her fortune. Her wedding dress is a little tattered, her veil a few inches away from where it had fallen from her head. Her eyes are cold and empty, staring straight out at nothing. Her skin was an icy blue, as if she were frozen. Seeing herself like this made her feel nauseous. Is that what she truly looked like that night? A limp, broken rag doll?

The third shows her at the altar, with Victor. Where on Earth is Collin finding these? It's disturbing.

They were holding hands, Victor looking down at her reassuringly while Emily gazed up at him with utter devotion. Her body, though decaying and blue, appeared more alive than ever, an impossibly vibrant sheen in her then cold black eyes. She knew it was impossible, but she couldn't help pretend that she was every bit the glowing bride she'd always wanted to be, standing beside the man she loved, the man who was willing to give up the life he knew to be with her forever. The man she had left standing in Rosings while she ran off with her captor out of pure spite. In spite of her situation, she can't help but allow this picture to fill her up with some warmth to ward off the chill she feels now. She stops herself from reaching out towards it in time for Collin to move on to the last photo.

The final photo is the worst of them all. It showed Emily lying on Collin's bed, fast asleep, the blanket only covering her from the waist down. Thankfully her arms were wrapped around herself, covering her chest. Her hair was a mess, tousled no doubt from last night's events. She shudders. Her flesh was unmarred, not even a single bruise, thankfully. What worried her was her peaceful expression. She hopes that she had at least been dreaming of something pleasant to warrant that face. She wishes she had been allowed to shower, to scrub every bit of Collin off her body, but Collin would only allow that if he were permitted to join her.

She curls into a ball and turns away from the computer, unable to look anymore. If he went through with this, she would likely be taken away and studied, never given a moment's peace for the rest of her life, since Whoever runs the Attic seems bent on keeping her Upstairs.

Collin sighs. "I have to do this, you know. No one at the office takes me seriously. I just want to make it big, to be the one writing the headlines for once."

Is he really trying to make her pity him right now? After what he's done to her? "Why can't you just let me go? You have your photos, that's evidence enough."

"I can't. I promised Barkis I'd finish what he started once I'm through with my article, whatever that means. I'm sure it'll all be over after that."

 _Finish what he started?_

 _Oh, no._

"He wants you to kill me, Collin."

x

"That's practically tracking her!"

"I'd like to hear a better idea from you, then! We've checked everywhere and turned up with nothing!"

Victoria gets up and moves to the bedroom. She can't listen to the two of them arguing anymore. Seating herself at Victor's laptop, she searches for methods to track cellphones. The phone had rung a few times the last instance Victor called, which meant it had to be on. She can only hope that it hasn't lost its charge.

The search returns several pages of results. Victoria doesn't know whether to feel glad or uncomfortable, but there's no time for that now. She opens the top link, which then prompts her to enter a cell phone number.

She hesitates. Does she really want to do this? Finding Emily would mean sealing her fate. She would lose Victor to her forever.

But keeping him with her isn't right either. Looking into those faraway eyes would only break her heart even more, knowing that he would always be dreaming of someone else.

Watching them, the way they behaved together, the way they just seemed to fit into each other's arms, is enough for Victoria to see: Emily is right. They are simply meant to be.

She enters the number and waits for the website to pull up the coordinates.

x

"You're joking."

Emily gives him a pointed look. "He killed me once before, he'll do it again. He's _using_ you."

Collin folds his arms. "What's it to me? He's giving me what I want, and I'm giving him what he wants. So what if he's using me?"

"He'll keep using you until he can't anymore. Then, he'll dispose of you. Besides, do you really want to end up in the Basement when you die?"

Collin snorts. "I'll just never commit another crime again and the good will outweigh the bad. Don't think I haven't thought this through, Hunter. Now," He loads up a document. "Let's get on with these questions."

Emily backs away a little. Collin really is willing to do anything. "And if I refuse to answer?"

Collin smirks. "Then we break you down until you're begging."

x

"I've got the address, let's go."

Victor whips around to face Victoria, eyes wild. "Really? You know where she is?" His eyes lock on the sheet of paper in her hand. "That's the place, isn't it?"

"Calm down, Victor." Bonejangles says, chuckling. "Seems your wife's got a stronger head on her shoulders than you do."

Victor winces inwardly at that, but smiles at Victoria anyway. "Yes, she's brilliant." He pulls her into an embrace. "Thank you, so much."

Victoria smiles into his arms. "I'm glad I could help."

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go!" Bonejangles bounds out the door. "Oi, Victoria, would you mind sitting in the back for a bit? I've got to talk to Victor, and then we'll switch off if you like."

"Not at all."

Victoria climbs into the backseat and hands Victor the directions, who takes his place in the driver's side while Bonejangles slides into the passenger side. Victor glances at the directions before pulling out of the driveway.

"So, does Victoria know?"

Victor takes the car out of reverse. "Yes. She took it surprisingly well."

"Do you two have a plan, then?"

"At the moment, not really. She'll live with us, of course, unless she or Emily and I decide to move out." Victor grits his teeth. "Assuming Emily hasn't fallen for that prat already."

"I doubt it. She's not that kind of girl, and I'm sure you can win her over again. Now, what did you tell her that made her up and run off?"

Victor sighs. "I told her I'd leave Victoria in a heartbeat if it meant we could be together."

Bonejangles groans. "And given your history with leavin' women, you didn't think about the way that sounded to her, did you?"

"I don't have a history!"

"Two makes a history."

There's a pause.

"Fine. Let's say, for the sake of the discussion, I have a history."

"You do."

"Anyway, I wasn't thinking, alright? Don't you have any idea what it's like to love someone so much that you'd do anything to be with them?"

"I've got an idea, yeah."

Victor makes another right. "I married the wrong woman, Bonejangles. She didn't exactly give me a choice, either. She was so set on giving me what she thought I wanted, what I thought I wanted. I just wish I could go back and... change things. That way, maybe everything would finally go according to plan."

Bonejangles smiles, amusement glittering in his eyes. "When things work out, and they will, because I've never seen a pair more lovesick, maybe Victoria can move in with me."

"Don't you live under a bridge?"

"Hah! No, not anymore. Those producers upgraded me to a nice little single flat. We'll still see each other, of course. I've got to help Emily write some of that music. It'll be real nice, for as long as I'm here."

Victor allows himself a small smile. "I hope you're right."


	10. Rescue

Chapter 10

Emily is curled into a fetal position, hugging her knees. Six hours without food. Two without water. One of a beating. She remembers trying to fight back during that, but after splitting her lip, she had stopped. She can only pray that Victor must be trying to find her. But after the way she treated him, her hopes aren't high.

Her stomach snarls. She can't take this, but giving Collin an answer would mean solidifying his proof even further.

And then he'd come after Victor to fill in the holes.

Victor.

She hugs herself even tighter. She misses him. The way his fingers would dance among the keys of his grand piano, as if he were caressing each note. The way his pencil would glide across the page when he began a new sketch. How flustered he became when someone teased him or said something outrageous.

And the way he looked at her as if she was the only person in the world, his heart shining in those dark, gentle eyes.

A few tears roll down her cheeks. She doesn't even have the strength to wipe them away. She's going to die before she sees him again. Maybe that's the way it's supposed to be. Maybe her time is up.

The door opens. Emily doesn't even look up, just continues to stare down at her knees.

Barkis's voice fills the silence. "Why bother resisting?" he asks coolly.

Emily doesn't answer. Barkis laughs. It's cruel and hollow, just like the rest of him.

"What? Do you think you're saving him this way? You're not even supposed to be here. You were brought back by mistake." He reaches out to touch her, but Emily snaps her teeth at him. He pulls his hand back, chuckling. "A pity we had to mar your pretty face, but you simply refused to cooperate." He circles her. "Now, I'm prepared to offer you a deal: answer the question, and we'll let you outside for an hour."

Emily peers up at him. This could be her escape. "What's the question?"

The recording device clicks on. "How did you come down here?"

"It's a bit complicated, and long."

"We have plenty of time."

Emily sits up, wincing at the pain in her body. "All right, here it is…"

x

Victor drives up to the location, but it's nothing at all what he expected. The address appeared to show a house, or an apartment, but for the lack of a suite number he'd assumed it to be a house. Yet the coordinates had brought them here, to what appeared to be a dead end, fenced off. Victor switches into park.

"I don't understand. There's nothing here."

Bonejangles shrugs. "Maybe we have to climb over?"

Victoria laughs. "He doesn't have the upper body strength for that."

Victor scowls at her. "I just need a boost."

"If you say so. But one of us should stay back, in case something happens."

"Guess it's just me and you then, Victor." Bonejangles says, opening the car door. "Come on, I can give you a boost."

x

Emily runs the moment Collin goes inside, not questioning for a moment how stupid he is for leaving her out here on her own. This is it, freedom! She ignores the pain shooting up into her bare feet, her only thought being escape. The ground is thick but sandy and littered with rocks, threatening to pull her feet down if she stops for even a second.

She can see a fence far up ahead, and as she got closer a blurry shape of a padlock. She'd have to climb over.

She can hear Collin's voice now, shouting after her.

She runs faster, but it's not enough. She trips over a large rock and falls, face first. Pain hits her from several different angles, latching onto her.

x

Victor falls over the fence after being pushed up by Bonejangles. _Ow!_ That's going to be a pain for a bit, since he has the bitter misfortune of bruising like a peach. He straightens up and notices someone lying on the ground several feet away, as well as a distant figure running towards it.

Bonejangles lands beside him, on his feet, and follows his gaze.

The person on the ground raises their head, revealing messy blonde hair and a bruised face.

 _Emily!_

The man running towards her must be Collin. Victor dashes towards her, and she seems to recognize him. She makes an effort to stand and run, but she only gains a few feet before falling again. Her face contorted in pain pushes Victor to run faster. Bonejangles runs beside him, jaw set in determination.

"Not so fast!"

Collin grabs hold of her and yanks her to her feet, but his grasp doesn't last long. Bonejangles rips Emily out of his arms and tackles him, full of unbridled rage. Victor lets him handle that and catches Emily before she can fall again. Her hands clutch at him blindly, and he pulls her closer to him, bringing her legs up to carry her. She inhales sharply, the pain in her ankle biting at the bone. He can hear Collin cursing as he tries to wrestle the smaller man off of him.

"Victor." she murmurs, trembling.

"I'm here." he reassures her.

She buries her face in his neck, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to keep herself closer to him.

Victor shifts his attention when he hears a thud. Bonejangles has been thrown back. Collin's face is a little beat up, but not much. Vengeance burns in his eyes, and he makes to charge.

Victor barely manages to dodge him just and Bonejangles gets up.

"Take Emily and go!"

That's all he needs to hear. Victor sprints off, running as fast as he can with Emily in his arms. It's taxing, but he won't let himself give up. He can hear Bonejangles fighting Collin off, and he's hoping he can handle himself, because he won't be much help until he gets Emily out of here. He gets to the fence as fast as he can, unsure of how he's going to get both of them over.

"There's a padlock somewhere." Emily mutters. She looks a little pale, as if she's about to vomit. Victor needs to hurry.

He finds the padlock and tugs on it. Locked. He'll have to break it. It's wood, so this should be easy enough. He sets Emily down a little away from the fence before slamming his entire body into it.

 _Crack!_

He's in pain, but it's working. He slams again.

 _Crack!_

Collin is charging towards them, with Bonejangles hot in pursuit. Victor kicks at the gate with full force, finally succeeding. Bonejangles pulls Collin down again, but Collin kicks him aside and keeps going. He's rushing towards him, fists clenched.

"You'll have hell to pay, Hunter!" he yells, launching himself at Emily.

 _Bam!_

Collin crumples to the floor, unconscious. Victor starts back, surprised at what he'd done. He hadn't even thought, just reacted. Where had that strength come from?

The moment doesn't last long. Bonejangles catches up to them, panting and looking worse for wear. His right eye is starting to swell, and his neck and arms are covered in angry red marks. He's bleeding from his nose, which he's trying to stop, but it isn't helping much. He gives Victor a wan smile.

"Well, let's get going then."

Victor gathers Emily into his arms, being excessively gentle. She's falling asleep in his arms. He holds her close to him and follows Bonejangles out. "Bonejangles, I'm so sorry." he says, feeling guilty that he couldn't have been a better help.

"S'alright. Emily's safe now, and that's all that matters."

Victor glances over at Collin's unconscious body. "What about him?"

"Leave him be, for now. We'll settle that later. For now, I'd just like to go home."

Victor raps on the passenger side door with his knee. Victoria, at first noticing nothing, unlocks the car, but when she sees the state of Emily and Bonejangles, her eyes widen.

"Oh my God!"

"Victoria, do you mind driving?" Victor says, shifting Emily a little in his arms.

"Oh, no! Of course I will!" She moves over to the driver's seat. "Maybe Emily and Bonejangles should sit in the back." she says when she sees Victor making to get in the back with Emily. "I don't fancy being stopped on the drive back."

Victor reluctantly agrees, knowing she's right. He allows Bonejangles in first, then slides Emily into his arms. Bonejangles holds her against his chest, like an older brother caring for a little sister, so tender and caring. Emily's eyes are closed and her breathing is a little ragged, but other than that she seems okay. Victor climbs into the passenger side, and after glancing back at Emily one more time, buckles himself in for the drive back home.

x

Emily wakes tucked into a familiar bed, in a familiar room, her foot elevated with a pillow. A rush of warmth spreads to her heart as she realizes where she is. Back in the safety of the Van Dort residence. Back home.

Then she smells something unpleasant.

Ugh, she's still wearing Collin's clothes. She tries to get out of bed, only to have pain shoot through her ankle. She must have twisted it. Damn.

Victor enters with a steaming hot mug of what smells like Blue Eyes tea, her favorite. She smiles at him as he sets it on the end table and seats himself at the foot of the bed. He returns it, his eyes warming at the sight of her.

"I'm glad to see you're awake."

Her heart sighs happily at the sound of his voice. "I'm glad to see you here." She pushes herself up to prop herself up on her elbows. "I'd like to get these awful things off me, though."

Victor's skin colors. "Oh! I suppose that's only natural." He crosses over to the dresser and pulls out a loose t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, and after a moment's hesitation, a matching bra and panties.

Emily pulls the covers back. "A little help?" she asks sweetly, pulling off the belt.

Victor gnaws at his lip, his face coloring a little darker. "Right, your ankle."

He pulls the pants off her, careful around her feet and the ankle brace, — he must have made a house call — and tosses them aside. When it comes to the boxers, he hooks a finger around each side and quickly averts his eyes as he pulls down, then slips on the panties while keeping his eyes glued to the ceiling. The sweats go next, and then he allows her to handle her bra and shirt, turning his back to her.

Emily giggles at the sudden shyness from him. "You're such a gentleman."

Victor chuckles. "I try."

"You can turn around now."

Victor shifts to face her again and brushes a few stray strands of hair from her cheek. She turns into his fingers, smiling. She can't imagine how she must look right now, but the way Victor is gazing at her makes her feel perfectly lovely.

"How is everyone else?" she asks, settling back into the pillows.

"Bonejangles and Victoria went back to his apartment to get him sorted out." Victor says, letting his hand slip into hers to draw little circles on the back with his thumb. "He didn't want you to see him until she fixed him up."

Emily scoffs. "He worries too much. I've seen rotters Downstairs, for goodness sake!"

"I suppose." He presses his lips to her knuckles, lingering a little, sending a tiny rush up her arm. "I'm so sorry you went through all that."

Emily suddenly becomes very aware of the way Victor is caressing her, the little touches that sent tingles all over. She pulls away, worried. "Victor, we still can't do this. You're married."

Victor's brow furrows. "I didn't tell you, did I?"

"Tell me what?"

"Victoria wants a divorce."

Emily turns her face away, into a pillow. "This is my fault."

"No." Victor takes her hand again, a little firmer. "Look at me, Emily."

Emily turns back to find Victor giving her the most sincere eyes she could imagine.

"Neither of us were happy, the way we were. No one wanted to say it, but we always knew. It was always there in the back of our minds." He pauses, as if to check if this is sinking in. "We didn't know what we were going to do, when we finally confronted it, at first. But on the way back, when we were bringing you home, it was clear. We needed the freedom to see other people again, to find true happiness. Victoria said it first, and I agreed that it would be best. But know that it's not your fault."

His eyes are filled with want, with longing, with a desire to be understood. Emily can't take this anymore, so she does what she's been aching to do since the moment she returned.

She kisses him.


	11. Overlapping Melodies

Chapter 11

Barkis wishes he could kill him.

Collin is a snivelling, whining brat who can't seem to handle an underfed woman or her stick thin companions. All he's been doing since Emily escaped is working on that blasted story of his, cropping this and that and asking his opinion on a particular font every time he made the mistake of passing by his door when it was open. Out of curiosity, Barkis had glanced at the article once, and had nearly gagged. It's that bad. No one with any credibility would believe that drivel. If things were different Victor and Emily would already be dead, and Victoria too.

The old woman had been a close call. He hadn't been thinking when he'd killed her, but the Attic King had taken notice. Luckily He had dismissed it as old age, but with people as young as Emily and the Van Dorts he wouldn't be able to get away with that kind of murder. Collin will have to be his knife if he wants to stay in the shadows. He needs to come up with a better plan to get his revenge.

He just wishes he hadn't chosen such a dull blade.

x

"Bonejangles, I've come back!"

The brassy voice of a familiar saxophone greets Victoria. Loft bedroom. Of course. She adjusts the shopping bags hanging from her shoulders and goes up the wooden stairs. The flat is awfully nice, but painfully bare. While Bonejangles had been nursing his eye she had gone out and gotten a few things. Well, more than a few. She'd have to come back for the rest of the bags in a moment, and that doesn't even include the groceries sitting on his countertop.

Bonejangles's jaw drops at the sight of her so loaded down, cutting off the jazzy sounds. "Victoria, what did you do?"

"You need much more than two shirts and one pair of pants." Victoria huffs, setting the bags onto his bed. "And that blanket is essentially a glorified tissue."

Bonejangles sets his sax aside, gawking at all the different colored bags. "Oi! There's no way I'll be able to pay you back for this. Not until I get a record deal, at least."

Victoria rearranges the bags to lean against the wall the bed is pressed up against. "Stuff it, you. You are not paying for any of this."

"Oi, you're crazy, woman." He peeks into one of the bags and pulls out a plastic wrapped ball. "What's this?"

"That is a bath bomb."

Bonejangles raises an eyebrow and puts it back. He's not sure how those work, but he'll fuss with it later when Victoria isn't around.

"Here."

Victoria throws something at him, which turns out to be several somethings that he nearly drops. Eyepatches, all different colors and designs.

"I wasn't sure which one you'd like for your eye, so I got a number of variations."

Bonejangles selects a glittering orange one. "I'll wear one for every day." He smiles at Victoria, fitting it over his eye. "Thanks. What do you think?"

"It's quite flashy." Victoria pauses. "But it suits you." Her gaze seems to linger on him before she averts her eyes. "Well, let's go through these bags, then." she says, opening one. "I think these are some of the bathroom things."

x

Victoria has dozed off on his bed, her head resting on a pile of tissue paper. They've gone through most of the bags and only a few remain, but Bonejangles can't bring himself to disturb her.

He had enjoyed the day with her, digging through the treasures she'd brought back. Now, his apartment is much more homey, much more lived in. It feels more like his place. The posters are a nice touch, all the greats hanging on his walls: Mike Osborne, Duke Ellington, Van Morrison…

They had talked a lot throughout the day too, gotten to know each other. Bonejangles had learned that Victoria enjoys home decor and design immensely, and would love to quit her online job to pursue a career in it, if only she had the confidence. That, and Victor hadn't gotten a job in the last two years ever since they closed his department at the instrument factory, replacing him and countless others with machines. He had also learned that she would like to learn how to play an instrument some day, perhaps the violin, but she simply never had the time.

In turn, Victoria learned that one day Bonejangles wanted to play at Carnegie Hall in New York City more than anything, and, if he had someone special, perform a song just for her at the end of his set. He also wants a nice little flat in the Big Apple so he can come back any time he likes, because he's sure that New York will be his home away from home.

Victoria's favourite colour is sunny yellow. She's always wanted a cat but can't get one because Victor is allergic. Her favorite pastry is an apple scone and she's a morning person through and through.

Bonejangles's favourite colour is pumpkin orange. He's only ever had fish, specifically bettas. He likes all desserts, but he has a fondness for sticky toffee pudding, and he would sleep the day away just to get into the nightlife if he could.

They're opposites, and yet…

Somehow, Bonejangles feels more like himself around her than anyone.

He knows it's crazy. He must be a little over twice her age, and besides, it would never work. He's a musician, first and foremost. His career would keep him far too busy as it's barely getting started up again. Besides, he doesn't stand a chance with her anyway. She'd marry herself off to some young, wealthy chap, still stuck in her parent's ways. It's almost depressing enough to make for a good song.

Which reminds him, he's got to get working with Emily on some new material.

Carefully, so as not to disturb Victoria, he gets up from the bed and makes his way downstairs to the tiny electric piano in the living room. He switches the keyboard on and presses his fingers against the plastic keys, forming a major seventh chord. That sounds about right for this type of song. He starts to sing, soft, low, and gruff:

" _Victoria, what are you doing to me?_

 _Summers have shifted and winters have blown_

 _But I'm still on my own_

 _Victoria_

 _Am I going to be alone?"_

x

Victor carries Emily downstairs, all the way to the baby grand piano. He hadn't touched it much since she had arrived and now wants to see if they can still create music together.

Emily gasps at the sight of it. She hasn't seen a piano looking so beautiful in years. When Victor seats her on the black leather stool, she adjusts automatically, putting her good foot on one of the pedals and spreading her fingers on the lower part of the keys. She edges over to make room for Victor and smiles.

"It's lovely."

Victor beams back at her. "I had a feeling you would." He seats himself beside her, spreading his fingers across the higher register. "Care to complete my duet?"

Emily giggles. "Don't I always?"

Victor leans over and presses a kiss to her cheek, delighted that he can do that now. "This is called 'Butterflies'." He begins to play a fluttering theme. "I started writing it when you left, but I've never been able to finish it."

Emily begins to play some lower harmonies. "Does it have words?"

Victor grins. "Of course." His high tenor begins to fill the empty room, echoing through the vast halls:

" _Where have you gone_

 _Where have you gone_

 _Somewhere I can't follow_

 _Though my heart's filling with sorrow_

 _I close my eyes and_

 _I feel your butterfly kisses against my skin"_

x

" _I dream of you night and day_

 _Victoria, what more can I say?_

 _I know there's no way you'd feel the same_

 _So why do I still feel this way?"_

x

" _I feel your hands on my shoulders_

 _Your beautiful eyes gazing into mine_

 _And I dream of butterfly wings_

 _Flying me away_

 _Away to wherever you've gone"_

Victor's voice stops, but his fingers don't. "That's all I have so far. It's not much, but —"

Emily's fingers brush his arm and linger. "It's wonderful. Maybe if we tried something like this…"

Rich, deep major chords fill the room, accompanying Victor's dancing melodies.

x

" _Victoria, everything has changed_

 _I don't know the time I've got_

 _But I'd love to give this a shot_

 _If you'll only lead the way"_

Bonejangles hears stirring upstairs and stops, writing down the last few notes quickly before stuffing the sheets into the piano bench. He supposes he ought to finish with the shopping.

x

A sweet, bright soprano carries above the warmth of the chords.

" _Now we're home, together at last_

 _Butterfly wings carried me home to you_

 _Here I am, and here I'll stay_

 _And nothing will send me away"_


	12. Can't Catch A Break

Chapter 12

 **A/N: Hello all! I know it's been a bit over a month since I last updated. I haven't had access to my laptop for a while, so I couldn't really put anything up. Anyway, I'm back now. Enjoy Chapter 12!**

* * *

Collin is practically shaking with excitement. It's finished. After three solid days of work, it's finally finished!

The text frames the pictures quite nicely, and after some editing on the older photos he had gotten them to match the quality of the newer ones. After some debating with Barkis, he had settled on Helvetica font, despite the fact that the paper he works for uses Poynter. All the more to make his work stand out. Now, he's just got to come up with an eye-catching title and he'll be ready to publish.

He would have finished sooner if Barkis hadn't kept interrupting him, demanding to know if he had located Emily Hunter yet. Collin had managed to somewhat pacify him with the promise of the media getting ahold of her as soon as his article is published. Barkis hadn't really seemed to believe him much, but he must have had something else on his mind because he let it go fairly easily.

He stares long and hard at the article, his masterpiece, for a few minutes.

His fingers scroll up to the top and type out the title.

Victor sits on the couch in the living room, a pen in his hand, absentmindedly tapping it against the coffee table. It's been nearly a week since the incident with Collin, and all has been surprisingly quiet. Emily is upstairs, napping after a few hours of fiddling with the keys. The divorce petition is sitting in front of him, demanding that he finish it. He and Victoria had decided to file on the grounds of desertion, since that seems to be the simplest way. There is no need for a mediator, as the reasoning is mutual, but he supposes he can always ask Bonejangles if the need arises. He already has an envelope with the five hundred and fifty euros beside the petition to accompany it. All he has to do now is sign, and then Victoria will receive the petition and sign her agreement. The worst part of it will be over.

So why is it so hard?

Victor comes from some money, fish merchants, that is, and with Victoria investing it into stocks he's always had enough money to live comfortably. Without her, he wouldn't have a clue how to manage what he's got. Emily wouldn't be much help, seeing as she came from a wealthy family from the beginning and never had to work a day in her life.

And besides that, he'd miss her.

Despite having to break things off with her, she is still dear to him, like a sister he feels he needs to protect. Not knowing if she'll be all right once they split bothers him. Yes, she knows how to take care of herself, but Victoria is the sort of person who doesn't feel secure without a companion. Bonejangles is still an option, but she'd never live with a man she isn't married to.

Victor's phone buzzes. Speaking of Bonejangles:

 _Victor, come over. There's something I want you to see._

Victor frowns.

 _Is everything alright?_

A few seconds pass, then:

 _Just come over. Don't bring Emily._

This must be quite serious. Victor pockets his phone and heads upstairs. Opening Emily's door, he peers in. She's still fast asleep. He smiles, happy to see her looking so serene, before grabbing the notepad off the end table and jotting down a quick note for her. After pressing a quick kiss to her forehead, to which she smiles in her sleep, he heads out, wondering what is so important for Bonejangles to call him over.

Bonejangles doesn't say a word when Victor arrives; he just shoves a copy of The City Shuttle into his chest. Victor has to catch it before it falls to the floor. Bonejangles closes and locks the door behind him before moving towards the kitchen and busying himself with what appears to be a fairly new coffee machine.

"You can sit over there to read it." he says, gesturing towards the couch. "You want a cuppa?" He starts pulling things down from the cupboards above the machine, body tense.

Victor sets the paper aside. "I suppose I'll have one, thank you. Are you alright?"

Bonejangles grabs another mug and nearly drops it. "Just read the story, Victor."

Victor raises an eyebrow, but for once, says nothing. He picks up the paper again and brings his attention to the article.

 _ **THE ZOMBIE AMONG US**_

 _by Collin Percival_

Among the massive walls of text are photos of Emily, dating from the first time they'd met to before then to now. They're blown up a little, blurring the images slightly and causing the article to span a bit over three pages, but it's clear that it's unmistakably her. The article begins with this:

 _Years of hoaxes of the dead walking among the living have amounted to nothing. They have been treated as nothing serious whatsoever._

 _Until now._

 _We have a zombie among us. Back from the dead, Emily Hunter, the infamous 'Corpse Bride', returns yet again. How is she here? Why is she here? Unfinished business, perhaps? Perhaps to seek venge_ _ance on her former fiancé, Victor van Dort (pictured above) for marrying another woman, Miss Victoria Everglot (not pictured)!_

 _Who knows how many others are among us, masquerading as normal human beings? Maybe there's a ringleader, waiting for enough to rise from the dead to plot their takeover on all humankind. There's only one way to know for sure: find Emily Hunter, and get some answers. And don't forget who brought you this groundbreaking news: Collin Percival._

Victor sets the paper down at that point and pushes it away from him. Bonejangles sets an orange patterned mug in front of him, lips pressed into a thin, hard line that appears nearly skeletal. For a moment, it's as if Victor can see the bones behind the flesh.

"So, what didja think? Are we finished?"

Victor glances at the article again. "No."

Bonejangles folds his arms and fixes him with a scowl. The expression looks wrong on his normally carefree face. "How? He's got pictures and everything!"

Victor hooks his fingers around the handle and brings the mug to his lips, thinking. The coffee is black and burns at his throat, but at the moment he doesn't really notice. "His story isn't at all credible. It was so poorly written that I had to put it down, and I had only gotten about a third of the way through. We don't need to worry about him." He swirls the liquid a little. "Where do you keep your sugar?"

Bonejangles snatches the paper from the table, flips to the second page, and points:

 _In case there's any doubt, I had the opportunity to interview Hunter, and if anyone's interested, contact me for the recordings._

Victor nearly spits out his coffee.

"Interview? Interview? He kidnapped her, - er, adultnapped, I suppose - but all the same!"

"What's going on?"

Victoria stands at the top of the stairs, barefoot, hair thrown into a messy bun, holding an open laptop. Much to Victor's surprise, she appears to be wearing one of Bonejangles's shirts judging by how long it is on her, a navy blue button up partially open at the top he's fairly certain Bonejangles wouldn't have purchased on his own, and a pair of her own jeans.

Victoria closes the laptop. "Well?"

Bonejangles folds the paper and tosses it onto the coffee table. "Collin wrote an article on Emily, and now it's all over The City Shuttle."

Victoria groans and makes her way downstairs. "Does Emily know?"

"Not yet. I didn't want to say anything since she just got back from that place."

"Understandable." She settles onto the couch beside Victor. "What do you propose we do?"

"We won't have to do anything if no one takes this seriously." Victor says. Victoria and Bonejangles give him a look. He rolls his eyes. "Oh, come on! Even if he has pictures, the writing's rubbish! No one is going to take him seriously."

"So you propose we do nothing?"

"Yes!" Victor snatches the article out of the paper and crumples it up into a dense ball. "Look, it's a rubbish ball now. That's all it is. Nothing more." The room is silent, unable to argue. He waves the ball at Bonejangles. "Still want to bother Emily with this?"

"No." he says, defeated. "But I can't help worrying, ya know? We just got her back."

Victor softens. "I understand. I was worried for a moment when I saw the pictures, but the article doesn't match. This isn't something we should be worried about."

Victoria takes the crumpled ball from Victor. "I still want to read this."

"Suit yourself. Just don't take it seriously."

Bonejangles switches off the coffee maker. "Y'know, with all we've been through, I think we need a nice night out. Somewhere we've never been, so the people that do care about the story won't bother us."

x

They end up at Woolamouth Beach, of all places. Victoria's never been swimming, and Victor is afraid of water, but Bonejangles and Emily were excited when it came up as a result from their web search. So Victor had pretended that he adored the beach and helped wrap Emily's ankle in some plastic so she could go into the water, and Victoria had flatly said that she'd sit on a towel under an umbrella with her laptop, and if Bonejangles so much as flicked a droplet of salt water in her direction, she'd slap him.

Well, at least she agreed to go.

Victor watches Emily and Bonejangles splash each other from a safe distance, toes curled in the wet sand. Emily looks beautiful under the sun, blonde hair flowing and damp with the ocean. He rubs his arms, getting a little chilly in his brown swim shorts — which he had to sneak out to buy. Despite the watery death trap in front of him, the beach atmosphere is oddly relaxing. The breeze ruffles his hair, pulling it out of its usually neatly combed style. If his mother were still around she'd call him a ruffian. He smiles at the thought.

"Victor!"

Emily's sweet voice pulls him out of his thoughts. She and Bonejangles are walking towards him now, Emily leaning on Bonejangles for support.

"Yes?" he calls back as they make their way over.

"Bonejangles is getting cold so he's going to join Victoria, and you know the sea's no fun alone." She looks at him sweetly through her lashes. "Come in with me?"

"Ah, well, um —"

Bonejangles claps him on the shoulder. "Have fun, mate!" He jogs the rest of the way to their setup.

Emily cocks her head to the side. "Is everything alright?"

Victor nods, vigorously, attempting to cover his nerves. "Yeah… yeah! Let's go."

The second his toe touches the water, he jumps back. "Nope, nope, nope! Absolutely not!"

x

Victoria snickers. "Oh my God."

Bonejangles looks up from his position on the towel, lying on his stomach. "What?"

"Emily's about to find out how much Victor _loves_ the ocean."

x

Emily watches Victor take about fifty steps back before saying something. She carefully kneels beside where he's seated himself, palms and soles planted firmly in the sand. "All right you, talk."

Victor bites his lip. "I have a… a slight fear of the ocean."

Emily smirks. "Didn't you say you adored the ocean?"

"I might have."

"I think you did."

Victor pouts.

"Aw." She ruffles his hair. "Now you look like a sulky teenager." Victor fights back a smile, but it's no use, and it breaks across his face. Emily giggles and leans over and presses a kiss to his cheek. "Come on. It's not scary, I promise."

She helps him to his feet and takes his hand, leading him towards the water. Her other arm goes around his shoulders, steadying herself and holding him close to her. This time, when the tide laps at his toes, Victor flinches, but he doesn't run this time. Slowly, Emily gets him in up to his knees, and that's as far as he goes. For now.

"I'm guessing splashing is out of the question?"

"Absolutely."

"Okay."

Emily nestles against him and wraps her arms around his waist. Victor's arm slides around her shoulders. True, he's not exactly deep in the water, but the warmth bubbling up in his chest right now makes everything okay.

"Hey! Hey, Corpse Bride!"

Emily groans.


	13. Margaret

Chapter 13

A tiny elderly woman with wild white hair and watery blue eyes totters toward them clutching a camera in wrinkled, bony fingers. She is beaming with excitement, and if Emily weren't so annoyed with her she would be worried that she might fall over into the sand. She gives a little wave when she finally arrives, practically shaking with eagerness.

"Hah! I can't believe I'm really meeting you, and up close too!" she warbles. Seeming to realize how rude she's being, or at least Emily hopes so, she sticks out a pruny hand. "Oh, where are my manners? Margaret Finch, professional photographer."

"Emily." Emily says tersely. Honestly, whenever she tries to get away from all this nonsense it just crops up again. Victor only looks uncomfortable, but he tightens his arm around her all the same, which is a little comforting.

"Goodness, I really can't believe that I'm looking at my last big story! I'd given up so long ago, and now after all these years, I was right!"

Margaret is bouncing on her heels, clearly unable to contain herself. She's also being unbelievably loud, and others are beginning to stare. Emily makes an attempt to hush her.

"Yes, yes, that's all very well, but please," Emily sighs. "What exactly do you want from me?"

"Let me interview you!"

Emily pales, recalling her last "interview", body freezing. "What?"

"Okay, that's enough." Victor says, his voice cracking a little. "Emily, just go back to the towels and I'll try to sort this out."

Emily limps back to Victoria and Bonejangles, still stiff with shock. No, no more interviews. She can't go through that again, never!

x

Margaret, still clueless, follows Emily with a concerned gaze, which then flickers back to Victor. "Is she going to be alright?"

Victor steps out of the water, no longer confident to test his endurance. "She'll be fine. She's just been through a lot." He fiddles with his fingers, unsure of how to proceed. "I don't think talking to her would be such a great idea."

"Oh, I understand completely." Margaret says. "I'm just so excited to be in the presence of a miracle! I can come by, maybe in a week, when all this press dies down. I wish I'd gotten ahold of her first, seeing as that Collin fellow can't write to save his skin. This could be what launches me back into the journalism business! Don't get me wrong, I love photography, but I miss writing even more, and…"

The more Margaret rambles, the more irritated with her Victor grows. It just doesn't stop. All these people just see Emily as pounds, free for the taking! They don't see the person; they only see the profit! Emily doesn't deserve this!

Enough is enough.

"Shut up!" Victor shouts, throwing his arms up in the air. Seeing the wounded expression on Margaret's face, he backs off a little. "Look, what you and Collin are doing is awful on both accounts. Why do you have to put her up for everyone to gawk at? Why can't you just let her live in peace?"

Margaret sighs, her ancient body shaking a little with the intake. "Believe me, I would if I could, but I don't think you understand what you have here. Emily is a miracle, and you shouldn't keep miracles a secret from the world."

Victor searches her eyes for any malice, any form of deception or insincerity, and finds none. He relaxes a little, but still keeps his guard up. "Well, I still don't like the idea of her being put on display. Who's going to stop others from trying to discover her secret? Even I don't know what it is. It was something that just happened. She's already been kidnapped once; I don't want it to happen again."

Margaret frowns. "Again?"

"How do you think Collin got that information?"

A sort of frost passes into Margaret's eyes. "He did what? Well, that's outrageous! I mean, honestly, there are ways to do these things that doesn't involve harming innocent people! The nerve of him! Really, has he got no —"

"Anyway," Victor says, cutting off another long rambling session. "That's why we went out today, to get away from all of this. We might even have to move away if there are more people like you."

Margaret flushes an angry red. "More people like me? I am nothing like those pathetic fanboys out there who want nothing more than to extort Emily for all she's worth." she says, stepping up to Victor, who, despite her tiny stature, is forced to back up a little and stares at her, wide-eyed. "All I want is to put some beauty into this world, to show how wonderful life is. I'll admit, my past work hasn't exactly reflected that, but I've changed much since then. So don't you dare compare me to those awful people!"

x

Bonejangles glances over. "What's goin' on over there?"

Emily follows his gaze. "I think Victor is being told off by that woman."

Victoria clicks into another tab. "Wouldn't be the first time. I'd say we all had a go at it at least once."

x

Victor puts his hands up in defense. "Okay, okay, sorry!" he says quickly. "But I still don't think it'd be a good idea to interview her after what happened last time."

Margaret cools slightly. "Have you reported him?"

"N-no."

"Well, why not? That would completely discredit his story and stop all this nonsense."

Victor can't understand why Margaret can't see herself as part of the nonsense, since she's as eager to get her hands on Emily as Collin was.

"Then we can publish the real account once he's locked up."

Victor nearly groans. "You still want to publish her story?" This wouldn't stop the nonsense, in fact, it would only add to it because it'd be true! How would this help at all?

"Again, why not?" Margaret repeats. "The story is already out there; Emily is already getting unwanted attention. Why not at least tell the truth? I want to help you, not hurt you."

Victor doesn't have an answer. He can't argue with that.

"Can you really help us?"

"Yes."

Well, why not?

"All right then."

x

Fired.

Collin can't believe it.

He had received the phone call early this morning, a day after his brilliant story had been published…

 _Ring! Ring! Ring!_

Collin rolled out of bed and grabbed his phone out from beneath his pillow. The caller ID simply said "BOSS" underneath an image of a balding, sour-faced skeleton of a man. Gunner refused to let him call him anything else. Collin hit the green answer key and tried to sound as wide awake as possible.

"Hello?"

"You're in a hell of a lot o' trouble, Percival."

Collin froze at the growl of Gunner's voice. That couldn't be good.

"Ya figur wot ya dun yet? Or do I haf ta spell it out for ya?"

Collin swallowed, a hard lump passed through his throat. "I'm not clear, boss."

"Ya ficka fan I pegged ya for, fen." There was a deep sigh on the other end of the phone. "Ya publish'd hogwash, Percival. D'ya know wot 'appens wen ya publish hogwash?"

Collin braced himself.

"YA GET CANNED!"

Collin can still hear Gunner's roar echoing in his ears, long after the event. Clasping his hands over them hadn't helped.

He doesn't know what he'll do now. His career is over. Get blacklisted by The City Shuttle, get blacklisted by the entire world of press. He sits on his hands to stop them from shaking, simply staring at the wall across his bed. He needs to calm down, find a different path, reroute.

 _BAM!_

Barkis barges into his room, letting the door smack against the wall.

"ALRIGHT COLLIN, YOU'VE PUBLISHED YOUR BLOODY STORY, NOW WHAT'S THE—" he halts his tirade, fixing his gaze on Collin's broken figure. His tone changes, softening. "What's the matter, my boy?" he asks, sitting beside him on the bed and laying a fatherly hand on Collin's shoulder.

Collin nearly flinches away, but then realizes: Barkis is all he has left. His career in the writing business is essentially shot, so what else is there? Barkis is the only one that has stayed, that has come through for him. Barkis is the one that helped him realize his dream, even though it was destroyed a moment ago. He should tell him everything.

"I got fired." he mumbles.

Barkis gasps. "No! Why?"

"For my story."

There's a pause. Then:

"It's not your fault. It's theirs."

Images of Victor and Emily and Bonejangles flash into Collin's memory. It _is_ their fault. If Emily hadn't gotten away, he would have had more time to gather more data, to solidify his story. They had _ruined_ him.

"What should I do?"

Barkis produces a knife from his coat pocket. The silver blade glimmers wickedly, a perfect temptation.

"What do you think?"


	14. Catalyst

**A/N: For the sake of pacing, let's say that divorce doesn't take an eternity and a half to go through.**

Chapter 14

After exchanging some information with Margaret, the group heads home, giving up on going anywhere else without being bothered. On the way back Victor had received a call letting him know that the divorce had gone through. Victoria is now an Everglot once again, not that the title carries much weight now. She's in their bedroom, apartment hunting, while Emily has gone back with Bonejangles to write some music, take her mind off things.

Well, _his_ bedroom now.

He can hardly believe it. Victoria hadn't even given him a chance to offer her the house. She seems so ready to leave.

He turns her ring over in his fingers. The tiny gold band that symbolized their love. Fragile and small. She had given it back to him the moment they arrived home. He sets it on the coffee table beside his own band.

Done.

x

Emily limps around Bonejangles's apartment, going towards the piano. Victoria had done an excellent job prettying up the place. It looks a lot more lived in now. She opens the piano bench, looking for the blank staff paper to start some new material. Instead, she finds a rumpled piece of paper with crudely drawn staves and roughly outlined melodies entitled "Victoria".

What?

She skims over the words, barely legible but still readable.

 _Victoria, what are you doing to me?_

 _Summers have shifted and winds have blown_

 _But I'm still on my own_

 _Victoria_

 _Am I going to be alone?_

She smooths the paper across the stand.

Oh, boy.

"Bonejangles!" she calls.

Bonejangles bounds down the stairs, pencil in his teeth, sax under his arm, strap thrown over his shoulder. "Yeah?" he asks. He spots the page, and reddens immediately. "O-o-oh. You saw that, did you?"

"Yes." Emily closes the bench and sits down. "When were you planning on telling me you were in love?"

Bonejangles raises an eyebrow. "Love? S'more of a passin' fancy, really." He hurriedly hooks the strap in, fumbling with it a little, hanging the sax around his neck. "Nothin' more to it."

Emily rolls her eyes. "Please. You and I both know that isn't true. We're musicians, and when we're in love, we write songs."

Bonejangles fixes the reed. "Fine. Supposing that I'm in love with her—"

"You are."

"Pfft. Anyway, so what? Nothin's gonna come of it." He puffs out a few notes, then adjusts his embouchure.

"You don't know that for sure."

Bonejangles seats himself on one of the arms of the couch. "Forget it. Let's just get started. We need to submit these songs in about a week, and we've only got three of the ten."

Emily plays a few of the chords, filling the room with soft, jazzy piano melodies. "Why don't we use this one? It's quite pretty. We can put it with 'Moon Dance'."

"Her name's in it 'bout ten times!"

"We can change it."

"To what?"

"Baby."

Bonejangles approaches the stand and looks the song over. That could work. With her name gone, Victoria would never know.

"Alright then. Scoot over."

Bonejangles wiggles in beside Emily. "We're gonna have to change the title."

"Noted." she smiles at him. "I think you should tell her, though."

…

"I don't think so."

x

Victor walks into the bedroom. Victoria is scrolling on her laptop, lying on her stomach in a decidedly un-Victoria-like manner. She seems to be loosening a little more each day, yet still carrying a ball of tension wadded up inside. As he draws closer, he notices the beginnings of tiny bags underneath her eyes.

He sits on the bed next to her. She flinches a little at the sudden dip in the bed, then goes back to her searching.

Victor speaks first.

"Hello."

Victoria gives him a small glance. "Hello."

…

"How's the search going?"

Victoria sighs and closes the laptop, giving up. "Not well. I can't really focus on it right now, actually." She rests her chin on the lid, simply staring straight ahead. Her eyes are tired, but they never droop shut.

"Anything I can do to help?"

Victoria's lower lip starts quivering. Concerned, Victor places a hand on her shoulder, unsure of what to do. Victoria hasn't allowed herself to appear so vulnerable in years.

"Just… just leave me for a moment, alright?"

Victor frowns. "Why?"

Tears spill over before Victoria can pull them back. "Victor, please!" she chokes out, turning on her side to hide her face.

Victor feels as if someone is slowly shredding his heart to pieces. He throws his legs onto the bed and turns on his side, enveloping Victoria in his arms. She doesn't resist, instead she simply lies there, trembling.

"I'm sorry." she says, her voice small and barely audible, a pained whisper. "I've just been holding all this in for so long."

Victor thinks back to the papers on the table, the finalization of their separation. "This isn't about the divorce, is it?"

"No. Yes. I don't know!" she sighs. "I just don't know what I'm going to do with myself now. I'm not particularly good at anything, not like you and Emily and Bonejangles with your music. All I know is data entry and taking care of you. I'm a housewife, Victor. My life has been planned to lead to that and nothing more." she sniffles. "Well, I don't have a plan anymore."

Victor pulls her up into a sitting position. He has to be the strong one, the man he's supposed to be. "Look at me." He tilts her head up gently. "You don't have to leave right away if you don't want to. No one is going to throw you out. And don't feel like you have to push your feelings down, or bury them." He smiles. "You're my sister. You don't have to be brave for me."

The beginnings of a smile appear on Victoria. "Thank you, so much." She wraps her arms around him and embraces him. She peers up at him through damp eyelashes. "You've really grown up."

"Oi!" he says, playfully squeezing her arm. "I'm not that childish."

"You take a pound of sugar with your coffee."

He chuckles. "Alright, that's fair." He pulls back. "Will you be alright with Emily living here? Because she doesn't have to move in right away. I'm sure Bonejangles could —"

Victoria shushes him. "I won't mind. It doesn't really bother me anymore. I can see how much you love each other, and I'm happy for you."

"Thank you. That means the world to me."

x

Collin scrolls through his email, going through the monotonous task of deleting his spam, trying to distract himself from his failure, and the temptation Barkis had offered him. Of course, he had said that he would be willing to kill Emily from the beginning if it came to that, but that was just talk to intimidate Hunter. In reality, he isn't sure how he'd go about it if he had the chance. Contemplating it is one thing, but going through with it is another. It isn't the act itself that intimidates him. It's dealing with the aftermath that makes him uneasy.

The spam folder contains mostly Viagra ads with the occasional flirtatious bot, until he sees an email from mfinch .uk. The name appears familiar to him, and he opens it immediately without reading the subject.

HERE TO HELP

 **Margaret Finch** mfinch .uk

Mr. Collin Percival,

I read your article when it was first published, and I must say that it was very informative. I enjoyed the clever bits about Emily being "a dead girl walking" and your call to "raise awareness". I also have an interest in Miss Hunter and am glad to have a fellow researcher taking part in this fascinating study.

Recently, I have conversed with Victor Van Dort, and he has no objection whatsoever to me interviewing his Corpse Bride. If you'd like, we can collaborate and publish stronger evidence and expose this "zombie among us", as you call her.

We both possess great minds, Mr. Percival. And great minds think alike, as you can see in my very own article on the subject (DIGG). So, come work with me. Together, we can achieve greatness.

Margaret Finch

 **DIGG Photography**

+44 3069 990586

mfinch .uk

Collin clenches his fists. Now he remembers. He had used Finch's article as part of his evidence ages ago, back when he still had a chance to create a career. Why should he even bother with her? His career in the publishing world is over.

Then again, maybe this is Fate, putting his seemingly impossible dream within reach again.

Or Fate's sick sense of humour, taunting him only to rip it away from him.

Or maybe it's a second chance.

Or maybe it's not.

Or maybe it is.

Either way, he knows it'll kill him not to know.

He glances at the knife sitting inches from his keyboard.

Besides, if this goes well, he can get his revenge on Van Dort and Hunter. Bonejangles too.

He clicks reply and begins to type the most diplomatic response he knows how to produce.

RE: HERE TO HELP

 **Collin Percival** cman22

Hello Margaret,

Thank you for taking the time to read my brilliant work and actually believe it. In a world full of fools, it's difficult to find minds that know greatness when they see it.

Yes, I think you working for me will be just fine. I know of your work and I have deemed it satisfactory, so if you set a time I will inform you of my availability. As an esteemed author I have a very busy schedule as it is, so you'll have to work around that.

Collin Percival

 **The City Shuttle**

+44 7911 123456

cman22

And, send.

In hindsight, he might have exaggerated a little. Then again, it was only accent exaggerating. He simply gave his qualities a bit more shine.

RE: RE: HERE TO HELP

 **Margaret Finch** mfinch .uk

How does tomorrow at five o'clock sound?

Margaret Finch

 **DIGG Photography**

+44 3069 990586

mfinch .uk

At that moment, Barkis walks in to check on him, or rather, his progress. He looks slightly different today, a bluish hue that seems to push from beneath his skin. The whites of his eyes seem to have a tinge of yellow, like aged paper. He reads over Collin's shoulder and frowns.

"I thought we agreed that this was a dead end, my boy."

Collin glances up at him. Quick, think of a lie! He can't disappoint his father, not now. Wait, father? Well, he supposes it's official now. Anyway, lie, now!

"It's a trap. I need to get them to meet me again, and this Finch woman is offering to help. They'll be dead soon, don't worry."

Barkis affectionately ruffles his hair, his fingers roughly scraping his scalp. "Clever boy." He goes to leave, then adds, "Don't forget the knife."

x

Barkis shuts the door behind him, fighting all urges to slam it. Collin is going at an agonizingly slow rate. If murder wouldn't send him right back to the Basement, he would have killed Collin along with Emily and Victor and Bonejangles long ago.

Well, at least now he seems to be getting somewhere, but he's running out of patience.

And worst of all, he's running out of foundation.


	15. Til Death Do Us Part

**A/N: Flaming Trails. You lovely, wonderful person you. Your reviews always make me smile. I'm glad you've decided to stick with the story. :)**

Chapter 15

MEETUP

 **Margaret Finch** mfinch .uk

Victor,

Can you and Miss Hunter meet me at 5 o'clock at Rosings? It's the only time I can fit you in this week.

Margaret Finch

 **DIGG Photography**

+44 3069 990586

mfinch .uk

Victor rereads the email for the third time, then glances at the clock. 4:30. Is he sure he wants to go through with this? Is Emily even ready for this? Sure, her ankle's healed, but what about the rest of her? Her mind?

He turns to ask her, but she cuts him off immediately.

"Yes, Victor, I'm sure."

"Okay."

He closes the window and powers the laptop off before rising from his chair. Emily approaches him, taking his hands in hers. Bright blue eyes find coffee brown.

"Stay with me?"

He presses his forehead to hers, smiling. "Always." He takes in flowing, golden blonde hair spilling over shoulders, soft, ivory skin pressed against his own, covered in an elbow length sleeved orange creme dress, patterned with tiny oranges. He presses a kiss to her cheek, a giggle escaping her lips. "You're beautiful." He murmurs.

She wraps her arms around his neck and lays her head against him, smiling into his chest. "I can't wait to be done with all of this."

"You and I both."

x

They arrive at Rosings a few minutes early, the café practically empty for happy hour. All the same, Victor appreciates it. It means less gawkers for Emily, though the few that are present do stare a bit. One mother holds her child a little closer. Oh dear. Margaret is nowhere to be seen. Emily's grip on Victor's hand tightens as they step inside. He turns to her.

"Alright?"

"Fine." She leans into him, shifting her weight. "It's just, the last time we were here…"

"I know."

They make their way to the counter. Victor orders a caramel macchiato, wanting all the energy he can get for today. Emily remains silent.

He nudges her gently. "Love, order _something_."

"I don't think I'll be able to keep it down."

"Please?"

"Alright."

She orders a shaken sweet tea, simple enough not to upset her already fluttering stomach. She can do this.

After picking up their drinks from the counter, they spot Margaret, who smiles and eagerly waves them over. She sits with a notebook spread open in front of her and a pencil tucked behind her ear, stirring some sort of coffee with a spoon.

Emily's eyes lock onto the pad. A chill slips in, crushing her insides and freezing her. She cannot move. Images flash before her eyes. A wooden bat. The click of the recorder. A computer screen filling with text as she spoke, trembling. Pangs of hunger. White hot pains in her arms, her legs, her stomach. A shredding sensation in her heart. Loneliness. Desperation. Barkis's cold, yellowish eyes, faint blue hues shining through white paint. His harsh, maniacal laughter. The slamming of the door, cutting off her only escape.

She can't do this, not again, not ever, not —!

"Emily!"

Her vision blurs, then focuses, back to the present. She's not in that place anymore. She's here, at Rosings, with Victor. Margaret is sitting over there, not Collin. Barkis isn't here. He's gone, for now. She's fine. She's —

Got cold, sticky tea slowly dripping out of the cup she's been squeezing just a little too tightly. She notices the tiny puddle beginning to form on the floor and relaxes her grip.

"Oh, God, I'm sorry!" She sets the cup down and pulls napkins from the mini bar and hastily crouches down to wipe it up. A sharp pain shoots up through her leg immediately, and she hisses. The injury is still tender, though just healed, but she continues to dab at the floor anyway, trying to clean up the mess she's made. Maybe after that she can clean up the mess she's made of their lives. Her arm moves faster at that. She doesn't notice Victor tugging on her arm until he does it a third time.

"Emily, stop, stop." he says, pulling her upright. "It's fine, I'll get it." He wipes up the rest of the tea and balls up the napkins before throwing them out, shooting the barista an apologetic look as he straightens up. "You don't have to do this. Actually, I'm not sure if I want to _let_ you do this."

"No, I want to. I need to. I can't let this continue to affect me." She takes a sip of her tea, grounding herself further in reality. She has to go through with this. "I promise this is the last time."

Victor continues to look at her with worried eyes, but says nothing. He takes her hand and gently leads her to Margaret's table in silence. He pulls up a third chair and places himself between them so Emily is seated across from Margaret rather than beside her.

"Alright," Margaret says. "The article covered some basic information, but I'm going to need a bit more to build your case. I have a list of questions here for you to answer, but if you feel you can't answer some of them, I'll understand."

Emily manages a brave smile. "Thank you."

"I'd like to get the most difficult question out of the way, the one most readers will want answered, especially after that article: we know the how, but _why_ are you here?"

Emily frowns. "Pardon?"

"We want the people to know you're not out to murder them in their sleep, not some scheming villain biding her time until the moment is right. Surely if you wanted to go back, you would have tried already, right?" Margaret leans in a little, curiosity shining in her eyes. "How does this whole afterlife business work, really?"

Emily shifts in her seat, forcing herself to relax a little more. "I was in a place called the Attic." she says. "It was… beautiful." She smiles, remembering. "Anything you could imagine, it was created by what other spirits called the Unseen Master. I wished for music most of the time, beautiful ebony grand pianos, jazz bands, a dance hall. That was what the spirits and I loved to do best, dance. Whenever I wasn't sitting at the piano, I'd dance with them to songs from my childhood, and even ethereal music I'd never heard Upstairs that seemed far too pure to leave the Attic's confines. I couldn't recreate it here, I tried once, but it wasn't the same. I was… content." She frowns, recalling the loneliness that set in after a while. "I don't know how much time passed, really, time was something of a figment in the Attic, but I started to feel… lonely. Of course, the spirits were lovely, and the Unseen Master was very kind. He spoke to me sometimes, in that warm, rich, comforting voice of His. But, I was missing someone." She pauses, and her eyes rest on Victor, who smiles, gently, waiting for her to continue. "You, Victor. I asked Him to create you for me, so I wouldn't miss you so much." Her eyes flicker to the tabletop; she bites her lip. "Everyone has limits. There are some things you just can't make out of clouds. He tried, and He did a wonderful job. The Victor He made looked just like you. But all he did was smile and hold me when I asked him to, and sometimes he'd play the piano, but the music he made was the same ethereal sound, which was breathtaking, but not quite the way you play. He never spoke, no matter how much I tried to coax him to. I don't think he could. And that just made me miss you more. I wanted to go back to you, but I thought that was impossible. Death had already taken me after you set me free. Yet, even though I had never spoken that wish, the Unseen Master heard it somehow. So, one day, while I was taking a walk alone, missing you more than ever, I suddenly found myself falling, through the clouds." She pauses as a part of her memory fills in, that one missing piece that she'd never been able to recall, until now. "And as I was falling, I heard His voice for the last time. He said to me, 'I see now that my Plan for you has changed. You are not ready to join me here quite yet. My child, go to him when you see him. Live out your days with him, and be happy, and you will return to me with him at your side.'"

Emily stops there, suddenly overwhelmed at this unexpected flood of crucial memory. She risks a glance up, and finds Victor's jaw slightly dropped, eyes widened, and Margaret scribbling furiously, smiling, with hints of tears in her eyes.

"That's beautiful." Margaret says, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve as she continues to write. She flips to the next page and finishes her sentence before setting it down to shake out her withered hand, cracking her fingers a little. "I might need another notebook after this session."

"Emily, how long have you known that?" Victor asks.

"It just came to me." Emily says, sipping on her tea, now realizing that her mouth has gone dry with so much talking. "Just now. That part was always a little fuzzy, but I guess telling it again brought it back." She smiles. "Like He brought me back to be with you."

Victor grins. "I suppose that means we have all the time in the world, doesn't it?"

"I suppose it does." Emily playfully swats his arm, getting a little more comfortable. "Unless you do something stupid."

"Oi! Why do you think it'll be me?" Emily gives him a knowing look, reminding him of all the clumsy things he's done in the past that could have gotten him killed. Victor laughs. "Alright, that's fair."

Margaret's phone goes off, interrupting them. She glances at it, types out a response, then replaces it into her purse. "I have a collaborator coming, if that's alright with you." she says. Emily nods. From the first question and the way Margaret had earnestly listened, she knows she can relax around her at last. Margaret continues. "He's a bit shy, and he's asked us to meet him in the back room. He's cleared it with the Rosings staff, so we should be okay to head back there."

A bit of uneasiness creeps up Emily's spine, but she pushes it down. She needs to overcome this, and she's so close already. Maybe a bit of security will help it along. "Can we leave the door propped?" she asks.

"Of course." Margaret says. Her phone buzzes again. "He's here. Shall we?"

Emily gets up, followed by Victor. "Let's."

x

The back room of Rosings is just as cozy as the main room, if not a bit more since it's smaller. The walls are painted a soft pink color, little white bulbs hanging around the windows, which let in a pleasant amount of daylight. There are even some framed records on display and an acoustic guitar sitting in the corner. The floors are the same hardwood as the main, but covered with patterned rugs overlapping each other. There are comfy cream colored armchairs with tiny end tables dividing a few of them, a spread of magazines topping each one, and a cream colored couch with a wall all to itself. A support beam stands in the center. As promised, it's completely empty.

Margaret looks around, confused. "I'm sorry, he said he was here. Well, might as well sit down."

Victor and Emily take the couch, and Margaret takes one of the armchairs, taking care to leave the door propped slightly before pulling out her phone and tapping something out. Emily notices, and a bit of appreciation for Margaret swells in her heart. She really is a kind old woman.

The door opens, and Emily's heart freezes for the second time that day.

Collin steps in, unshaven, and wearing another hideous brown cable knit sweater and a triumphant grin, a black duffle bag in hand. To make matters worse, Barkis follows, freshly painted white and dressed in what looks to be a new tweed suit. His eyes lock on Emily, and he smiles that same twisted smile as he yanks the door shut and locks it.

Margaret is the first to rise. She leaps to her feet with a surprising amount of strength for her age, an expression of mild annoyance on her face. "I told you not to bring him." she scolds Collin as Barkis settles into one of the chairs, in no clear hurry to do anything to Victor and Emily just yet. Emily cannot move, paralysed with fear. Both of them, in the same, small space, is too much all at once. Victor wraps his arms protectively around her.

"He insisted on coming." Collin explains, barely masking the irritation in his voice, taking one of the chairs and shoving the headrest under the knob. He wanted to do this on his own, to prove to Barkis that he wouldn't fail a second time, but Barkis wouldn't let him go alone.

"Bloody hell, Margaret!" Victor growls, seething with betrayal. "Not you too!"

Barkis laughs; Emily curls deeper into Victor at the sound. "I can't believe you were stupid enough to trust anyone after what happened before. Now, do we have to tie you up, or are you going to make this easy?"

"Do as he says, Victor." Margaret says. "Trust me."

"Trust you!" Victor nearly laughs. "Trust _you_? No, never again!"

Margaret sighs, turning to Collin. "Will you two decide what you want to do with them while I make this easier for all of us?"

Barkis cackles harder. "And what are you going to do? Beg and plead and —"

Margaret cuts him off with a glare. "Don't forget, I'm the one that got them here."

Barkis sets his jaw, unable to argue. "Fine. Come here, Collin. We never did discuss the exact details anyway."

Collin goes to him as Margaret draws near to Victor, lowering her voice. "Play along, will you?" she hisses. Victor makes to protest, but Margaret shoves a pruny finger to his lips. "Hush. You're going to ruin my plan. If you're going to respond, whisper."

Victor scowls but lowers his voice to a hush anyway. "Why should I listen to you? You brought those two madmen back to Emily!"

"To bring about justice! You're not safe with those two still around. They need to be locked up. I sent a text to the police, since I can't very well call them without giving us away. They'll be here in ten minutes, possibly sooner. Hopefully sooner. Play along until then."

Still guarded, Victor asks, "How do I know if I can trust you?"

Margaret looks him dead in the eye.

"What other choice do you have?"

Victor groans. She's right.

"Fine."

"Are you quite done over there?" Collin asks. "We've decided everything now."

"Yes." Margaret straightens up. "Victor?"

Victor doesn't want to say the words, doesn't want to give Barkis the satisfaction of victory, however temporary, but he complies anyway. "We'll cooperate." he says reluctantly. "What are you going to do to us?"

"Surely you know by now that you're not going to walk out of this alive." Barkis says, clearly enjoying himself, brimming over with glee. He steps to the center of the room, beside the support beam. "First, we'll poison you."

From the bag, Collin draws out a jug containing blood red liquid, followed by a familiar looking goblet. The more Victor stares at it, the more he realizes: it's the same cup from his wedding. He gapes.

"How did you get that?"

"Never you mind that." Barkis says, waving his hand dismissively. "When I plot vengeance, not a _single_ detail is overlooked." The last bit is pointedly at Collin, a hard jab at the boy's esteem. Collin hangs his head, but says nothing. "Then, while you're convulsing on the floor, vomiting blood, we'll run you through with this a few times, slowly." A ruby jeweled dagger is produced, joining the poison and the goblet on the floor. "Finally, when I'm satisfied with your condition, Collin will blindfold you." A black bandana. "You won't see the blade until it's buried in your chest." Barkis sneers. "And the best part is—"

"You get to choose who dies first!" Collin eagerly supplies.

Barkis inhales sharply, his face twitching a little, restraining clear rage. Victor can faintly see the blue undertones beneath the thick layer of paint darken. "Yes, you do. Thank you for interrupting me, Collin." he says through gritted teeth.

Collin backs down, shame clouding his eyes. "Sorry. I just wanted to say something. It was all so brilliant when we were talking about it."

Victor resists the urge to scoff at how absurd Collin's being despite the imminent danger he and Emily are in, not wanting to make things worse. Emily hasn't moved from his side the entire time, her eyes precariously far away. He whispers her name, trying to draw her back, but she simply lies still, eyes unseeing, in some sort of stupor. Seeing her like this rips his heart to pieces, knowing that there's only one thing he can do to stall for time until the bobbies arrive. He untangles himself from her gently and rises, noticing Collin immediately locking his gaze onto him, curling his hands into fists, ready to fight if he should try anything.

"I'm not going to attack." Victor says. "You can stop that."

Collin relaxes his hands slightly. "So you've decided to go first, then."

"Yes."

"Have a seat, then." he says, grabbing an armchair and pulling it towards center.

Victor walks towards the chair, trying to conceal the sudden flood of fear overtaking him. Where are the bobbies? Barkis's conniving little spiel certainly felt like more than ten minutes. He tries to still his racing heart, tries to force the cold beads of sweat back into his pores, tries to release the tension building up in his chest. He's failing miserably. Barkis and Collin watch him with matching psychotic grins.

He nearly makes it to the chair when his phone rings.

He looks at Barkis, knowing that he's the one who's really in charge here, not wanting to aggravate him further.

"Answer it." Barkis commands. "Assure whoever's calling that you're perfectly fine."

Victor slides the phone out of his pocket. Victoria's picture lights up the screen. Another slash through his heart. He presses the answer button, and Victoria's voice fills a room that seems to have shrunk a thousand times in size.

"Hello, Victor?"

"Hello, Victoria." Victor says, trying to keep his voice from shaking. He's afraid, despite himself, but he's determined to hide his fear as much as he can.

"You've been gone for a long time. Are you nearly through with the interview? Bonejangles just got the demo album for your music from the record place, and he really wants to show you two."

Barkis unscrews the cap on the jug and begins to fill the goblet. Victor forces himself to look away before he responds.

"Uh-m, we should be wrapping up soon. Margaret's being really thorough, but it'll help in the end." It stabs at him a little to spout such lies, but he has to keep going. "I'll call you when we start driving back, alright?"

"Alright, but hurry. He's practically bursting with anticipation. I think he's changed his eyepatch about twenty times." Victoria chuckles. "He says he's trying to find one with the most pizazz —, oi, Bonejangles!"

Bonejangles's voice booms through the speaker, and Victor has to hold the phone away from his ear to keep from going deaf.

"VICTOR! YOU GOTTA HURRY BACK!" he says. Victor can practically see the big, happy smile on his face on the other end. "I'M DYING TO PLAY THIS THING, MATE!"

Victor forces a laugh. "Okay, Bonejangles. We'll be over soon."

"YOU'D BETTER BE! WOOOO!"

Bonejangles hangs up on the other end, leaving Victor with his lock screen. He replaces it in his pocket.

Barkis scoffs. "Now that that nuisance is out of the way," Victor glares at him but says nothing. "Shall we get on with it? Not literally, of course. I'm making sure that your death is slow and painful. And hers," He looks back at Emily, still frozen on the couch. "Will be much worse."

Victor follows his gaze, burning the image of Emily into his mind, in case he dies before help arrives. He tries to picture her laughing, smiling, vibrant, and fails. She lies there helpless, eyes staring ahead at nothing. He looks away, forcing back tears that are beginning to form, and instead sees Margaret slowly moving the chair away from the door, trying not to make a sound. She winks at him before he shifts his gaze somewhere else, trying not to draw attention to her movements. She must know that the bobbies are close, somehow. He seats himself in the chair, trying to settle himself. He may die. He probably will die. He grips the armrests in an attempt to calm himself as best as he can. Will this be better if he closes his eyes? Maybe. He tries, but it doesn't last.

"Open your eyes." Collin demands. "I'm not going to feed it to you. You're going to drink it yourself."

Victor groans, but opens them anyway and takes the goblet from Collin. He and Barkis both watch him with a sickening anticipation. He nearly gags at the smell, something resembling garlic. He can feel the warmth of it through the metal. This is it.

He raises the goblet, eyes watering at the strength of the poison.

 _Goodbye, Emily._


	16. All That Matters

Chapter 16

 _BAM!_

The door slams open, smashing into Victor's chair and knocking the goblet from his hand. Some of the poison splashes onto his shirt, rapidly burning a hole through it. He rips it off before it can come in contact with his skin, pushing the chair off him and running towards Emily, not caring about much else.

The bobbies have arrived, four of them, at last, in their black vests, pants, and white shirts, checker banded hands perched atop their heads, guns in hand.

"Collin Percival, Barkis Bittern, freeze where you are! You are under arrest, and we _will_ shoot if necessary!" one of them yells amongst the chaos.

Victor reaches Emily, now wide awake, probably from all the noise. She blinks at him, as if seeing him for the first time. "Victor?" she says, tentatively.

"I'm here, love." he says, gathering her into his arms, relief washing over his body. "I'm here…"

Meanwhile, Collin leaps up, his hands up high, looking perfectly terrified. "I'm frozen, I'm frozen!" he yelps. "Don't shoot!"

"Nobody move!" Barkis growls above it all. "Or Finch here dies!"

Victor's eyes land on Barkis, holding Margaret against him, pressing the dagger to her throat. She looks at Victor with wide eyes, silently pleading with him, clawing at Barkis's hands, peeling the foundation off in the process to reveal stripes of deep blue skin. Barkis growls at that.

"Stop that, you." He focuses on the bobbies, whose eyes are locked on him, guns pointed on him. His voice becomes eerily calm. "Now, here's what's going to happen: you're going to let me walk out of here, alive and unharmed. Take the boy prisoner if you must, I don't care."

"Barkis!" Collin protests, eyes shining with hurt.

"Every man for himself, my boy." Barkis sneers. "Surely you must have learned that by now. So, do we have a deal?"

"Let Margaret go, first." another bobby says.

"Drop your guns." Barkis counters.

The bobbies drop them, and Barkis releases Margaret. He walks forward, parting the bobbies. As soon as he passes the final lawman, he breaks into a run.

He doesn't get far.

One of the beefier bobbies tackles him to the ground, wrestling him into a standing position, muscles flexing as he tightens his grip while Barkis pathetically struggles against it. Another bobby grabs Collin as he tries to follow suit, effectively subduing him. Barkis goes limp for a moment, catching his captor off guard, before bringing the forgotten dagger up and nearly stabbing the bobby, but his reflexes are better than Barkis has anticipated. The bobby grabs Barkis by the throat and thrusts him away from his body, protecting himself.

His grip, immensely strong, inevitably snaps his neck.

Barkis is still, at last, skin changing color completely back to its dark blue. His eyes become cold and yellow, his hair snow white. The room grows silent, shock taking over. In the heat of the moment, Death has claimed another victim.

And in that moment, something strange happens.

A black mist rises from the floor, swirling and twisting until it forms a distinct shape. An aroma of pineapple fills the room, the strange smell of corpses. A black hood, concealing a face with glowing, iridescent violet eyes. A flowing, smoky robe, faces of souls in agony stitched in. Bony, feminine white fingers with a greenish tinge, gripping a long, ebony scythe patterned with vines, the blade gleaming white hot. Death says nothing, surveying the area, intense orbs locking onto Barkis's form. She stretches Her free hand out, and, as if on command, the bobby silently hands Her Barkis's body. She bows Her head, as if in thanks, and then vanishes, Her scent still lingering.

As if by some sort of spell, everyone unfreezes. Victor helps Emily stand, still holding her close to him. One of the bobbies approaches him, the muscular one.

"We'll take it from here." he reassures them. "You just go on home and rest."

Victor wants to ask him a million questions. Why did they take so long to arrive? Why couldn't they subdue Barkis immediately? Why did they give in to his demands so easily?

But all he can say is, "Thank you."

He goes to Margaret, now feeling guilty for the way he'd treated her earlier. Seeing the tiny indent in her neck where the dagger had been pressed moments before only further twists the guilt. "Do you want to come home with us?" he asks, wanting to make things right somehow. "Settle down a little?"

Margaret shakes her head. "I don't think so. All this excitement hasn't exactly done wonders for my heart. I think I'll go to my own home, have a spot of tea, and take a good, long nap." she pauses, thinking for a moment. "I believe it would be best for us to carry on with the article writing over the phone."

Emily smiles at that. "Yes, it would be." She takes Margaret's hands in hers. "Thank you, for everything you've done. You've gone far beyond anything you had to do to write your article. We are eternally grateful to you."

Margaret's eyes sparkle, a smile gracing her weathered features. "You're very welcome, my dear. I hope we keep in touch. And you," she says, her tone becoming playfully stern. "You'd better continue to take good care of her."

Victor chuckles. "I promise."

"I'd like to ask everyone to leave the crime scene, if you don't mind." a bobby says.

Collin's bobby leads him out as Victor, Emily, and Margaret enter the hallway.

"I mind!" Collin yells back. "I mind!"

The response comes accompanied by laughter.

"I wasn't asking you!"

x

Barkis opens his eyes, trying to adjust to a newfound darkness. Giving up, he sits alone, unsure of where he is. It is completely silent, smelling overwhelmingly of pineapple. Odd.

The sound of a match being struck jolts him from his thoughts. A floating flame moves toward him, agonizingly slow. Desperate for more light to be able to see, Barkis runs towards it and grabs it.

The flame blows up into an enormous inferno, engulfing him completely. Searing, white hot pain takes over, and all he can do is scream, over and over, the flames lapping at his body, unceasing. He never loses form, never bursts into ash, instead staying whole but constantly burning until all he can perceive is pain and anguish as he writhes, trying to break free, only to have the inferno enlarge itself even more to keep him inside.

Somehow, he manages to shout, "Where the bloody hell am I?"

High, female cackling echoes throughout, piercing his ears with its shrill sound.

"Ffffunny you ssssshould ssssssssay thhhhhat." a smooth, hissing voice, that of a woman, fills the place.

"Where am I?" he screams again.

"I thhhhought you were sssssmarter thhhhan thhhhhat. Sssssurely you musssst have ssssome idea."

The smell of his own burning flesh fills his nose. Stabbing sensations flood his body. Swords have joined the blaze, pulling in and out, impaling the same spots over and over again. There is no escape.

"Thhhhe Bassssssement, you fool!" She cackles. "And thhhhissss issss only thhhe beginning."

Somehow, Barkis can see a hooded figure appear before him, scythe raised, surrounded by purple flames glowing bright.

"Afffffter all, Deathhhh issss eternal!"

She throws Her hood back, and at the sight of Death's Head, draws out the most earsplitting shrieks from Barkis, shredding his vocal cords again and again.

And above it all, a hissing chant of a thousand damned voices:

"MORSSSS AETERNUSSSS, MORSSSS SSSSSSUMMUSSSSS, MORSSSS QUOD DOMITOOOOR!"

x

Victor and Emily arrive home, exhausted from the events of the day. Victor had called Victoria on the way home, as promised, letting her know that they'd be home soon. He's still unsure if he wants to tell her what happened or not, if it's something that she really needs to know about. He helps Emily up the porch, the two still clinging to each other for support. When the door opens Victoria is there to greet them.

"Finally!" she says. "Bonejangles has been practically bouncing off the walls since that last call. I just got him to settle down on the couch." She notices something and frowns. "Where's your shirt?"

Victor reddens. He'd forgotten about that. Well, that takes care of that decision.

"It's a long story, involving Collin and Barkis." he says.

Victoria's eyes widen. "What? What happened?"

"I'll tell you soon. Both of you. Just know that they're no longer a problem. We're safe now. Let's just listen to that album. You did say Bonejangles has been waiting for a while."

"Just answer me this: is Barkis… is he… is he dead?" Victoria asks.

Emily answers for him. "One of the officers accidentally killed him while trying to defend himself. He's gone. Probably made it to the Basement by now."

They wander into the next room and are immediately spotted by Bonejangles.

"S'bout time!" he says. "Now we can play fis fing!" He notices Victor's lack of a shirt and grins. "Did you two get a little busy while you were out?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

They both flush at that. "No." Emily says. "Something else happened."

"Hmmm. Well, tell me later. I want to 'ear 'ow we sound!"

Bonejangles pushes the CD into the player, but before he can press play, a white light suddenly fills the room.

Bonejangles groans. "Am I never gonna play fis fing? I mean, really?"

The light forms a glowing silhouette of a man, who chuckles. His voice is warm and rich.

"You're too much, Bill Robinson, you really are."

Bonejangles gapes at him. "Bill? No one's called me by fat name in years!" He gasps. "Are you King of fee Attic?"

"I have many names." He says. "I suppose that's one of them. Most of my people call me the Unseen Master." His eyes, warm as the sun, rest on Emily. "Like Emily, here."

Emily beams at him. "Hello."

"I've come to take you home, Bill. When one goes to the Basement, another must join me up in the Attic, eternal happiness to combat eternal suffering."

Bonejangles's brow furrows. "I knew fis was gonna happen one day, but I fot I'd be goin' back Downstairs." He looks around. "And I don't know if I'm really ready to say goodbye." He looks back at the Unseen Master. "Is fere any way I could stay a bit longer?"

The Unseen Master seems to think for a moment, though it's hard to tell with the brightness of the light hiding His expressions. "There is one way, a different kind of eternal happiness. That's how Emily is able to stay here, with Victor. She has found eternal happiness in him. Is there someone you feel that way towards?"

Bonejangles flushes bright red. "Er, nope!" he says quickly. He sets the CD down. "Goodbye, all!" he says, shaking Victor's hand, hugging Emily, and nodding at Victoria all at once, a truly comical sight. He leaps to the Unseen Master's side, who appears to be attempting to hold back laughter as he bounces in place. "Well, wot you waitin' for? Let's go! Big blast of light, woteva!"

The Unseen Master gives him a look. "Bill." he says, eyes seeming to look right through him, reading whatever thoughts are jangling around in that skull of his. "You'll never know if you never tell her."

"Yes, _Bill_." Emily says, smirking. Victor snorts. "Do tell her."

Victoria looks from face to face, completely clueless. "Tell who? Me? Yes, me?" The three of them nod as Bonejangles stares pointedly at the floor, growing redder by the second. Victoria huffs, completely clueless. "Bonejangles, honestly, just tell me. It can't be that bad, whatever it is."

Bonejangles rocks back and forth on his heels, like a schoolboy. "I…, may or may not —"

"Bonejangles."

"Oh bloody hell, fine!" he says, throwing his hands up in the air, still staring at the ground. "I…havefeelingsforyou." he mumbles in a rush.

Victoria's eyes widen, then, a smirk spreads across her face. She heard him the first time, and to be honest she's perfectly delighted and trying not to jump up and down right now, but she decides to have a little more fun with him first.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" she says, approaching them and ducking down to make him look at her. "I didn't quite catch that, can you say it again?"

"You know bleedin' well what I said." he grumbles.

"Mmmm, not really."

He repeats it, reluctantly, and, for him, at least, excruciatingly slow.

"I. Have. Feelings. For. You."

"One more time?"

"Alright Victoria, that's enough." The Unseen Master says, chuckling.

Victoria laughs and presses a shy kiss to his cheek.

If it were possible for Bonejangles to get any redder, he would have.

"The feelings are mutual." she says sweetly.

Bonejangles straightens up, smiles, and pulls her into a tight embrace.

"I think that settles that." The Unseen Master says. "Unless… you have any objections, Bill?"

"No!" Bonejangles says, a little too quickly.

"I didn't think so. I leave you with this, then: Someday, I will call you back home, but not today. Love each other. Cherish each other. Take this time I have given you, and make the most of it." He begins to rise. "Farewell for now, my precious children."

With that, he disappears with a _pop_.

They all stand together for a moment, wrapped in each other's arms, happy that all has gone well.

Bonejangles speaks first.

"Alright, it's great and all everyfing worked out, but I'm playing fuh bloody disc before anyfing else happens!"

"Okay, _Bill_."

"Cork it, you."

* * *

Mors Aeternus, Mors Summus, Mors Quod Domitor = Death Eternal, Death Superior, Death the Conqueror


End file.
